


Seiryū

by petrichor (findingkairos)



Series: gentle beating of mighty wings [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Flame Sealing, Gen, Sawada Iemitsu's A+ Parenting, Sawada Nana's A+ Parenting, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unconventional Uses for Dying Will Flames, Worldbuilding, flame lore, rated t for cursing, this is going to get massive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 78,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2555606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/findingkairos/pseuds/petrichor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reincarnation is not always a blessing. A butterfly beats its wings, and a hurricane forms halfway around the world. </p><p>(Or, What would happen if Sawada Tsunayoshi had an older sibling figure to look up to and be tutored by years before a certain Sun Arcobaleno showed up in Namimori?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I - X

**Author's Note:**

> _Seiryū_ : the Azure Dragon. One of the Four Symbols of the Chinese constellations, which are the astral representations of the Wufang Shangdi. Represents the east and the spring season.
> 
> Or: No matter what you think, you are important, my dear. Your mere presence will topple kingdoms and wage wars; your life, freely given, will save worlds.

_Life is movement. What is, was, will be. Ever-moving, ever-changing—yet ever-constant._

_Death is much the same._

**I.**

Yamamoto Keiko has always been a curious child. She hadn't cried unnecessarily, she hadn't been spiteful as some infants were. She hadn't even been jealous of a younger sibling, instead taking Takeshi under her wing without a further word. Yes, she's always been curious, but not outright odd.

Except that sometimes, she  _is._  Sometimes, Tsuyoshi gets the feeling that his daughter is… different.

(Because even little infant Takeshi had sensed something was wrong, and cried for his mother, that night. Keiko hadn't.)

People talk, sometimes.  _Poor Yamamoto-san, bringing up two children alone. At least Keiko-chan and Takeshi-chan are well-behaved. A bit surprising, really, from children whose father is a—_

Tsuyoshi just sometimes feels like taking down his sword where it's been hung on the wall –  _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,_  empty words murmured to an empty shell – and filleting them like fish, like raw meat, like he does so easily with a knife.

But he can't, because he's given up on that life and has cut all ties with it, and now he's just Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, chef and owner of Takesushi. Just the man that runs a sushi shop, and maybe once he'd been glad of that fact. To no longer have his hands drip with years and years of blood, and hang that stained reputation up for the smiles of his children and long-gone wife.

It was worth it, yes, completely, and if given the choice he will do it again,  _always_ , but still—

Still, he hears, and sees, and worries.

**II.**

Yamamoto Keiko may have always been a curious little child, always questioning of the world in ways that are sometimes  _frightening_ , but that's nothing new. That's nothing worrisome. She lets the comments roll right over her, moving on with her day of  _reading_  and  _writing_  and  _learning again._

Because this isn't her first time living, although it is her first life in this one, as far as she can recall. She knows the one with the name  _Yamamoto Takeshi_  will be important. Oh,  _so important_ , in the future.

But now, he's just her brother, just her little otouto, the one who will need a  _normal_  sister.

She's tried, of course. If only for the sake of her father's odd little frown that quickly quirks into a smile when he catches her looking. If only for the sake of her little brother, she's tried to be normal, act normal, as if nothing were wrong.

Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. But she'll try, none the less, for Takeshi and Tsuyoshi. For her new family.

(Eeven though  _she's not supposed to be here, what is she doing here, I don't_ belong  _I'm not_ supposed to exist,  _I_  died—)

It's just a matter of whether or not it'll be enough.

(She hopes, prays, that it will be.)

**III.**

Living with the Yamamotos is sort of like living with an enormous amount of sunlight, blinding the unprepared with cheeriness and its absurd amount of  _normality_.

"Hey, nee-chan, can you help me practice baseball? I wanna try out for the school team next month!"

She ruffles his hair, still in the lighter, fluffy stages of childhood. "Only if you finished your homework and if tou-san lets us go to the park."

Her brother nods vigorously, and after he shows her his completed homework he stares with his wide black eyes toward their father. The man melts, just a bit. It's not that obvious, but his children can tell. "Be back before dinner."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks tou-chan!" Her Takeshi-kun practically drags her out the door. She finds she doesn't mind; not really.

He reminds her of the sibling she'd had before ( _push down the hurt, see, it's easy, just don't think about it_ ), and her affection and protective nature for this one is no different.

If it means suffering through ball-throwing practice and the shrieks of the children at the park, then so be it. It's good hand-eye coordination, anyway, and her brother certainly likes it better than the other activities that their father had suggested.

The fact of being far more skilled in  _understanding_  the nature of things than most would believe aside, Takeshi surprisingly takes well to the traditional good versus evil games, and for that, Keiko is grateful. He laughs easily, puts others at ease with his friendly nature, even at such a young age. It only helps that Takeshi is  _genuine_ —one of the few that she has ever encountered in either of her lives who mean what they say, and say what they mean.

It is an incredible blessing to be so, even if it means that her brother is more naïve, slow to understand the reality of things than most. But this is her brother.

She will  _fight_  for his right to remain a  _child_ , to have a  _childhood_ , even while the other mothers at the park look on with pity when they think she isn't looking.

**IV.**

Takeshi is not stupid. He might be young, but he's not  _unintelligent._

He  _knows_  the other adults give him, can  _see_  them out of the corner of his eyes, no matter how much nee-chan tries to block them. He knows that having just the one parent and no other relatives is not normal. He knows that such a thing is rare in peaceful Namimori. He has never seen aunts, or uncles, or cousins, or anything else other than his sister and his father. He has never  _had_  them.

But he doesn't mind.

It's hard to put it into words, really.  _He's_  the one who feels them, and still, he has trouble. But when he explains to most adults that he doesn't mind having only a father and a sister, because they are his world and they are enough and they  _should_  be enough, no matter what the other people say. There's not many that understand that, and if they do, they're scattered few and far between.

(But sometimes he gets the feeling that someone, somewhere, is watching him from the sidelines as if they  _know_  what he's feeling, and he turns around and sees no one but a brown-haired boy and that's strange, isn't it, because what would Dame-Tsuna know about fending off people and their unwanted questions?)

**V.**

She doesn't have that many friends, to be honest. Not like most others in her class, who have entire  _connections_  based on their year, lower year, and upper year acquaintances. A combination of being the book-loving first daughter of the local sushi chef and one of the higher-ranked students in class ( _but never like last time, not the elite upper ranks, no,_ don't draw attention to yourself) has created a… bubble, of sorts, around her. She does have the occasional lab partner or study-mate, of course, but it's not the same.

Being assigned to work together, or working for the same education-related goal, is not the same as spending time with someone simply because it is something enjoyable.

On the other hand, Takeshi has  _hoards._  Even at his young age he's incredibly skilled at baseball; at playground games he is always the first one to be picked, or the second, if the playing teams have mixed years of children. He is a part of the school baseball team. He is part of almost every single game that he is sucked into whenever they visit a park.

He is a part of a  _community_ , and even if she is allowed to drop in on those as an "elder sibling," she never exchanges more than a few words with the other older kids.

She'd  _tried,_  though. She honestly had. Keiko never likes making her family worry, but her father certainly has, and had fretted after her to spend some time with the other girls, the ones who have a contact list on their phone a mile long. Even Takeshi, with that keen mind unusual for a ten-year-old, has asked why she spent so much time at home.

(He'd simply shrugged when she'd asked why he was worried about something like that, gave her that smile that said  _'silly nee-chan,'_  and pressed her for answers.)

The only notable 'friends' she has to speak of are Matsuoka Satomi and Takei Eri, and that's enough for her, regardless of what anyone else thinks.

It  _is._

**VI.**

Their first meeting had been an accident, and a cliché, if Keiko is to be honest—not enough seats in the elementary school cafeteria, and the three of them had been herded to the same table for lunch one summer day. She still remembers the sunlight streaming through the window and highlighting Satomi's dark brown hair, turning it completely black in the harsh lighting, like hers and Eri's, and the glint of the silver-framed glasses reflected onto the table. Satomi-chan and Eri-chan, back then.

That is another thing that is  _different_ ; Japanese suffixes. Tricky little things, if one weren't born and raised in Japan with its Japanese mindset and its own Japanese culture and propriety and manners. Keiko makes do.

They'd been ten years old, all of them—birthdays only a month each apart, with Keiko the oldest and Satomi the youngest and Eri hovering in the middle. But that hadn't mattered. It had taken repeated glimpses of each other, and an increasing familiarity only helped along by the table near the wall with the always-open window somehow becoming 'their' table and seeing each other in class, day in, day out, but eventually, that  _hadn't mattered_.

Their meeting might have been a cliché, but that friendship has lasted two years. Keiko tells her two friends things that she doesn't dare tell her father or brother, and Satomi and Eri return the favor as the youngest of three and an only child.

It's… surprisingly normal, around them, and she likes that. It gives her a place ( _purpose_ ) and friends.

It makes her decision easier, in the long run. Perhaps Takeshi won't understand, or perhaps he will—he always has been perceptive of the things that matter, and to him, his  _nee-chan_  does. Whether or not he'll understand the consequences is another thing.

**VII.**

The ceiling is dark, shadows superimposed on the white paint. The wooden floor is cool beneath her back, even beneath the blankets that attempt to buffer the cold. She can hear two lungs slowly breathing in, out, around her, in the grip of well-deserved sleep.

" _What do you want to do when you grow up, Eri-chan?" Knee-length skirt swirling around her legs, Satomi's brown hair glints dark in the noon light as she swings herself around one of the playground's swing set support poles. Around and around and around._

_The addressed girl hums in thought, tilting her head back to meet the back of the bench where she sits next to Keiko. "I haven't given it too much thought, really."_

" _Who does?" Satomi giggles, but her face turns serious just as quickly as it had been amused. She does that sometimes, but it never fails to amaze Keiko how rapidly her friend can change topics. "But still. If you could do anything in the world, what would you do?"_

_True to form, the only girl in their group with glasses has an answer ready in few minutes. "I'd probably become a lawyer, like my kaa-san. I want to help the people who need it, but can't afford it. What about you, Satomi? What would you be?"_

_It's like Satomi has been waiting for the question, and maybe she has. "I'd like to be a teacher, or maybe a painter! I like colors and making things with paints, but I like to help people too, like you said, Eri-chan! Just in a different way, I suppose." She smiles, and turns to Keiko._

" _What about you, Keiko-chan? What would you want to be?"_

The same question haunts her as a twelve-year-old, the same as it had a year ago. Her friends are perceptive; perhaps odd for their age, but they are the youngest of the family with two older siblings to show the way, an only child with more opportunities than most, and the oldest that is far older than she seems. It makes sense to Keiko, and if the other two notice, they don't remark.

(If the neighbors, the adults, the community remarks, then that is their problem, not Keiko, nor her friends'. She will  _keep_  it that way.)

 _What would she want to be?_  She knows, vaguely, what Takeshi's future will entail. She has already made her decision, long ago, to not partake in it.

The shadows shift, and Keiko makes her choice.

**VIII.**

"Are you sure?" Satomi asks again, voice anxious and gaze unsure. She is wringing her hands. Her drink lies untouched on the café table, long abandoned for the conversation.

"I am." Keiko is touched by this, she really is. But her friends are not making her decision any easier.

Eri is the one to speak next, ever the logical one. She so often is, in their little group. "Think about it, Keiko.  _Really_  think about it. It's not that we don't want you to attend Midori; it's that we don't want you to think you have to because of  _us._  I know that you wanted to go to Namimori to at least keep an eye on Takeshi-kun somewhat." The fact that the glasses-adorned girl even dropped the suffix '-chan' speaks volumes to her, and Keiko blinks in surprise.

Because yes, that is true, and what has she done to deserve friends like this? Keiko isn't exactly sure. "I know. I do understand. And I did want to keep an eye on my brother, but I think he'll do better without the middle school teachers constantly comparing me to him. Kami-sama knows he had a problem with that all throughout the last year; it's not his fault that choosing sports over studying is something the rest of Namimori doesn't understand."

Even if it means that she won't be able to watch over him in Namimori Middle, she thinks it's a worthy price to pay for Takeshi's freedom from her shadow. From Satomi's easing of the tension in her shoulders and Eri's sigh, they see it too.

"Alright. If you're  _sure_  you're sure." Satomi finally takes a sip from her lemonade, and Eri does the same with her iced tea. Keiko smiles.

It's nice to have friends that understand, sometimes.

**IX.**

The swords in the  _dojo_  at the back of the shop have always been there—old relics from days long past, with only the plainest ( _the most useful_ ) hung up near the back wall of the sushi shop as a decoration. Keiko has passed it day in, day out, up and down the stairs for the most of her life.

Its disappearance on her birthday, once so ever-present, takes her by surprise.

Confused, but mostly sure that her father had taken it down for oiling or sharpening or cleaning or something of the sort, she continues up to her room above the shop, steps thudding into an empty home because she's back from school early and Takeshi is at baseball practice and her father had hollered at her and her brother in the morning that he'd be out for a bit when she got back home, he was getting some shopping done.

For what, she doesn't know, but her question is answered by the time that she has finished her math homework and about halfway through her science. Satomi and Eri will be over later, and she needs to finish now in order to have any time for them. "Keiko!" Her father shouts from downstairs, the bell on the door punctuating his call.

When she arrives, he is holding a sheathed blade in his hand, faint sketches of a bamboo tree adorning the otherwise black cover, and  _she knows that image._

"I know that we'll be having your friends over and cake and opening presents and all that later," he starts in one long breath, black eyes firmly on her. She can't stop staring at the sword, thoughts churning. "But you're turning twelve, and I'd like you to start learning how to stay safe."

 _I'd like you to learn how to defend yourself,_  is what he doesn't say, and the words between the lines snaps her out of her daze and sets her attention on him.

His eyes are dark.  _Had this happened in—in actuality, before she'd been born and altered it?_

Keiko doesn't know what to think.

**X.**

Takeshi's reaction is, in retrospect, something she should have predicted.

"I think you should," he says, eyes wide but resolute. Even in Primary, he knows what she is doing, asking him, and he responds in that innocent, guileless way of his that makes her heart ache. "It's a good idea – why are you so against it, nee-chan?"

She can't answer that question, not without saying things like  _It was supposed to be yours, not mine_ , and  _if I take it, what will you have?_  without sounding either ungrateful or odd.

And she  _is_ grateful, and even if this is Takeshi, her own brother, she doesn't want to worry him by being  _odd._

Effectively, even without knowing it, Takeshi has her cornered.

(Or maybe even by knowing it, on some level – his eyes, as much as they are the windows to his thoughts and soul, are triumphant when she finally sighs and gives in.)

Keiko can only hope that even with this new oddity –  _you_ caused _this by being born, you're changing_ everything,  _this is not_ right – this will… not come to pass, no, not the way that the story goes in her head. But perhaps in a way that will leave Takeshi as unhurt as possible.

Tou-san has never said that she needs to learn the  _Shigure Soen Ryu_  style, after all.


	2. XI - XX

**XI.**

"Lift your arm a little higher, like that, yes. Now strike."

She doesn't really know why she's doing this.

"Now step back, middle position, then jab."

After all, kenjutsu is Takeshi's niche. Or rather,  _will_ be his niche, once he truly gets into the  _"mafia game_ ," and not the little play-acting that he's doing right now, trying to copy his  _nee-chan_. Is it truly right of her to take it from him like this?

But then again, she knows how the majority of women are treated here, and she is not a wallflower, or a princess to be rescued, or  _anything_  of the kind, and she  _will not be one._

The fact that her father had been the first to offer it and that her brother had accepted it, though, warms something in her heart.

(Maybe she  _is_  meant to be here, after all.

She pushes the thought back and concentrates instead.)

"Spin, slash, then raise the blade to block."

And that by the time that Takeshi  _really_  takes kenjutsu seriously enough that he'll need training, she'll be good enough to provide it is simply another reason why she wants –  _needs –_ to learn.

"Good. And that's kata number four."

Keiko lowers the sword from the blocking position she'd held it in, protecting her head, with a sigh and throbbing shoulders. It'll ache the morning after, she knows, at the very least until lunch. "You weren't kidding when you said this one was more difficult on the shoulders, tou-san."

"Of course; did you really think I'd lie about something like that?" His mouth is smiling, but his eyes are dark. He had been supportive of her choosing to learn this style, she knows, but there is still…  _something_  about the man that's her father that disapproves. Still, she doesn't regret her choice. She  _can't._

"No, but I won't be appreciating the soreness in the morning."

Tsuyoshi laughs from his leaning position at the dojo wall, barefooted and merrily. One wouldn't think that he'd done this same form that she'd just performed mere moments ago as a demonstration, much faster and more precisely than she could hope to think of copying right now, and had wandered off to let her try. "Then I'll just have to make you that drink that you like in the morning to make up for it."

"Didn't Takeshi finish the milk yesterday?" Keiko turns back to the far side wall and begins the new kata again, this time paying attention to her footwork.

Her tou-san rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Did he? I don't exactly remember."

He laughs again, a mere chuckle this time, at the glare she sends him over the bamboo wood of her blade.

(It is not…  _that_  blade, she knows. She is not learning the  _Shigure Soen Ryu,_  which would make the blade useless to her, anyway. No, she's using one of her father's old practice swords instead, and she's perfectly content with that.

 _The weapon does not make the warrior._ )

**XII.**

Her father may ask and her brother may wonder, but Keiko knows she will not change her mind. She's tried to explain to Satomi and Eri when they'd asked, eyes curious and searching for explanation. She tells them what she'd told her tou-san and Takeshi-kun, that as much as the  _Shigure Soen Ryu_ would be a good style to learn, it is not one that she feels a connection with.

Her friends and Takeshi had had a hard time understanding what she'd meant, but her tou-san had known. And it is true – the versatility of the style might have been something truly…  _interesting,_  if she had chosen to pursue it, but as a person and a now-kenjutsu student, Keiko prefers continually flowing movements to the  _Shigure Soen Ryu_ 's comparably more rigid methods and sharp ones.

But that, as true as it is, is the reason that she has given her friends and her brother and her father as an explanation.

Her more genuine reason for learning the style that she'd chosen is threefold. First, to give Takeshi something of his own when their world turns upside-down and he takes the art of the sword more seriously, and, later, builds his identity around it; second, to give him another style of fighting to hone his skills on, because as much as the  _Shigure Soen Ryu_  is proclaimed as the invincible style, being too set in its ways will only hinder Takeshi's growth as a swordsman.

And third, because everyone expects her to, as the first-born daughter of a wielder of the style.

In her efforts to remain firmly out of the mafia and live a  _quiet_  life (so that she will change the least things) so that Takeshi will at least have the life that she  _knows_  will turn out for the best in the end, Keiko knows the advantages of having an ace up her sleeve and surprise on her side.

**XIII.**

"Well. This is it."

And it is. Today is the day that, with Eri and Satomi, Keiko will start Secondary School. After this, it will be difficult to justify a transfer to Namimori. In all respects, it is her last chance to change her mind, to decide to attend Namimori Middle instead and protect her brother as best as she can there.

But she's made her choice already, and Keiko knows that she is a stubborn enough person to stand by it.

Setting things up for this had been easy. Explaining things to tou-san had been what Keiko had been worried about, but now, she knows that she had had no reason to.

" _I want the best for you,"_  he'd said, and she believes him.

(It explains a lot of things, from the offer of the  _Shigure Soen Ryu_  in the first place to his accommodation of her choice of another style, to the very fact that he has offered an art that brings so much  _pain_  to him in the first place. It is a bittersweet reminder of how much this life's father loves her, and Keiko intends to treasure it with all of the carefulness it deserves.)

So. Here they are, at the edge of something new, and she sweeps her gaze around the outside gates, taking in the formality and the ruthlessly knowledge-seeking atmosphere of the school.

For all of her previous attempts at  _hiding among the other students_  in terms of schoolwork, this, she knows, is a place that she can  _thrive_  in, regardless of her other, more personal reasons for choosing to attend Midori.

"Last chance to turn back," Eri says, and Keiko laughs and gives her friend a jab of an elbow to her ribs. The girl doesn't even flinch, long used to her methods, and leans slightly out of the way to take the blow on the smallest area possible instead.

"Not taking it," Keiko answers, and Satomi links both of their arms together with hers.

Together, the three of them walk through the doors of Midori Secondary School, one of the most prestigious secondary schools available near the town of Namimori, Japan.

_No turning back._

**XIV.**

His decision to teach his little Keiko-chan the way of the sword had not been an easy one. Even with the dojo in the back ( _to keep his skills sharp, in case he ever needs them_ ) and the swords on the back wall, Tsuyoshi has left his past and all that it entails behind for a  _reason._

His wife had died for that reason. And as much as it pains him for it to be  _necessary_  that he teach a twelve-year-old daughter how to defend herself, he will not let  _his children_  die for it as well.

Takeshi-kun has tried his hand at the sword, but had gone back to baseball – not that Tsuyoshi had really expected anything else. His boy is  _gifted_  with the wooden bat, and though he worries and frets after him like he does with Keiko he isn't that concerned.

A wooden bat works just as well as a sword when under duress or in a fight.

His Keiko-chan, on the other hand – it confuses him, sometimes, why she would throw herself into perfecting kenjutsu when she could have learned just hand-to-hand instead, and simply concentrate on her studies. Not that she isn't learning barehanded combat; it is just that with the gifting of one of his old swords, he  _knows_  that his Keiko has less time for other, more  _leisurely_ things now.

(She always carves out enough time for her family and friends, however, and for that Tsuyoshi is grateful, in the midst of a community of parents who are left behind by their children in pursuit of academics or goals.)

Still, he worries after her decision of leaving the  _Shigure Soen Ryu_  for another style. Part of it is personal, since  _Shower in Late Autumn, Blue Swallow Style_  is what he uses, and he  _knows_  it to work, and work well. And he  _is_ proud of his daughter for the decision, because he knows, also, the damage that can occur if a swordsman uses a style that is not attuned with him.

But another, larger part of it is pure  _worry_.

The style that his Keiko-chan had chosen is deadly, true, but it is also one of the most difficult to put into practice.

(His daughter has always loved a challenge.)

**XV.**

Midori Secondary is a highly competitive school, if she is to be completely honest, as well as being an all-girl one. Keiko finds that she doesn't mind, because finding love in her Secondary years has never been one of her goals, anyway.

But her classmates' complaints on the lack of boys grates on her nerves, and Keiko resists a sigh even as Satomi pats her shoulder with a smile and Eri ignores them all in favor of her book.

Sometimes, Keiko wonders exactly  _how_  the other students in their entering class had ever managed acceptance into the school. She knows that Midori only takes students within a certain percentage at the top of the class in grades in the Primary schools, and Keiko had given up on seeming absolutely  _normal_  in the academics aspect and had shifted others out of her way to graduate at the upper ranks of their class.

It is... oddly reminiscent of her past life, though, with girls gossiping and exchanging study tips at the same time. There are similarities enough to tear claws at her heart, even after – years.

It has been  _years_  since she has woken up and embraced the name Keiko with all of the things that comes with it. She's not sure if she should be mortified at the time that has passed, or grateful that she has been able to move on with her new life, not enshrouded in grief as she knows many others would have done.

(As many others –  _one_  other, she corrects herself, because hopefully it will forever be  _just the one_  –  _had_ done, at the loss of the only life she'd ever known.)

Keiko blinks when Eri snaps her fingers in front of her eyes. "Class is starting," she simply says, and moves back to her own desk with her empty lunch bag.

Her friends are long used to the moments when she falls into her own head and need assistance refocusing. She's not quite sure when it started, but since then Eri has noticed every incident in her presence, and Satomi has done what she could when their other friend isn't there to do so. Keiko does what she can for her friends when she can in return.

It might not be the flower-giving and clothes-sharing relationship that others have, but Keiko is thankful for it anyway, and she thinks that her friends are, too.

**XVI.**

"Do you know where Yamamoto-chan is?"

"How am  _I_ supposed to know? I don't even know her phone number, for kami-sama's sake."

Hitomi side-eyes her friend, who is sitting and typing away at her phone. Kana hasn't even looked up from her mobile writing of the essay due in three days, after the weekend. "Does she even  _have_  a phone?"

Kana shrugs, and doesn't reply. Hitomi, herself, sighs and leans back onto her elbows from where she's sitting on the bench next to her friend, both of them waiting for the bus to take them home to Agemachu.

"Well. The least she could do is  _tell_  us if she's walking home, so we know not to wait for her."

"You know Yamamoto-chan. The only people she  _really_  talks to is Satomi-chan and Eri-chan."

"And isn't that weird?" Hitomi glances again at the girl sitting next to her. She still hasn't moved, nor have her fingers slowed down in their furious tapping against the touch screen. "You'd think she'd talk to more people, being the daughter of a sushi shop owner and all."

"Why did you want to talk to her, anyway?" Kana doesn't look up, but Hitomi sighs and laces her fingers together, rubbing at the tense spots at the joints. They'd written a lot of notes today, in preparation for the quiz at the start of the next week.

"I wanted to invite her to go shopping with us at the Namimori Center this weekend. Guess I won't be able to, then."

Kana doesn't say anything, and Hitomi leans back to look at the sky instead.

**XVII.**

"Are you sure about this?"

Keiko nods firmly, and Eri sighs and pushes her glasses back up her nose from where they'd slid down. Satomi is…  _bouncing,_  on the balls of her feet, and laughs at her friend's hesitation.

"Come on, Eri-chan! It'll be interesting, at the very least!"

The object in question is the science lab, the experiment conducted in Satomi's backyard, where they will have her brothers' aid, should anything go wrong. It involves baking soda, vinegar, and a lot of plastic bottles made to look like rockets.

Eri sighs again and gives in.

(Keiko thinks that maybe, this is what it feels like to be  _normal_  and not have to worry about a future written only in her head and her father's dark past and her brother's…  _difficulties_  with the majority of the town.

Because whatever he has with his…  _friends_  at baseball will  _not_  be healthy in the future, in  _any_  sense of the word, but Keiko doesn't think she can do anything to stop it at this point, and that, in and of itself, is a failure.

 _Keiko doesn't accept failures._ )

(Satomi notices her…  _sulking,_  and aims a chemically-fired plastic bottle rocket model at  _her_  and not Eri instead.)

**XVIII.**

Namimori, Japan. A small town situated in a lesser-known area of the country, and a place where everyone knows everyone. Any piece of gossip shared between two overeager mothers is sure to have reached the ears of the woman who owns the tea shop furthest from the town square in a matter of days.

It is small, defensible, and is currently under the protection of the Hibari family.

It is, in effect, the perfect place for a former (not "retired," because one never  _retires_  from the  _mafia_ ) swordsman to hide and start a new life in.

(They had waited three years the first time around, and again for ten years after the  _oh-so-tragic death_  of his wife.

They will finish the job, this time, and they will make it  _permanent._ )

**XIX.**

Takeshi knows who his tou-chan had been before retiring to become a sushi chef; the swords on the back wall and the dojo make it hard for him to doubt it. And it's not that he does, because he sees his nee-chan practicing every day when he returns home, and he'd have to be blind  _and_  deaf to not notice  _that_.

But sometimes, it's hard equating the man that has been his tou-chan all his life, making his sushi and laughing with genuine amusement when Takeshi says something to make him laugh, and the man that spars with his nee-chan, his wooden sparring sword moving through the air so quickly it's only a blur. There's an edge of something else to it, then, when he's teaching an art he's hanged up in order to teach his only daughter how to defend herself.

It is… startling, to see. His kind, freely-laughing tou-chan holing up and his eyes going  _blank_  is something that Takeshi thinks he will never get used to.

(And he hopes to kami-sama that he will never have to.)

He drops his thread of thought, though, and tucks it away for  _later,_ when Togai-kun asks him if he'll be coming to the summer baseball camp held at the school one town over. "Of course!" he tells his teammate, and lets thoughts of baseball and strategy and technique fill his head.

**XX.**

Days pass.

Keiko gets better at her chosen sword style, and takes Takeshi to and from his Primary school before she goes onto her own Midori Middle. It's relatively quiet, and peaceful, as the regular customers return to Takesushi whenever they can, for the food, for the drink, for a chance of a quiet moment and a dish of sake before returning to work, and their patronage keeps their little family's head above water.

The seasons change, first term ending with the beginning of summer and releasing its hold on students for the warmer months. Keiko takes the time to visit the park with her brother again – he's now focusing on baseball more than anything else, although the combined efforts of both her and tou-san are able to keep his education somewhat up-to-date. She's not sure if she should be surprised or not.

When she arrives at Takesushi's doors she's surprised at not having to unlock them with her key. Usually her father keeps them locked on Sunday, which today is, and he would have made sure that the door had been locked, since Takeshi is gone on his camp.

She's locking the door behind herself again when she  _senses_  it, over half a year of her father coming at her with  _intent_  at random parts of the day on the weekends with his wooden sparring sword honing a sense for situational awareness that is now  _screaming_  at her.

Keiko ducks a thrown knife to the head in time to roll under one of the tables by the walls. It thuds into the support behind with a dull  _thud_  that she can hear, even from where she is crouching.

_Well. This is quite the homecoming._

"You're one of Yamamoto's brats, aren't you? Don't answer that, I know the answer."

Her practice sword is in the dojo in the back, and from what she can tell from the trajectory of the knife, her assailant is in the left part of the store, and further in. The way that Takesushi is laid out, she will pass directly by him on the way to the dojo. Exiting through the doors to take the back way is not an option, since that would mean leaving her cover, meager as it is.

"No hard feelings then, I hope. The sins of the father are paid for by the blood of the child; you understand,  _sì_?"

Her wooden,  _safe_  practice sword might be in the back, but there are still swords on the back wall, hanging on supports. She  _knows_  that if she runs, and uses Takesushi's furniture to her advantage, she can reach them.

Maybe with a few holes in her clothing, or knives in her limbs, or… well, she might not be able to outrun a professional in the mafia (because  _who else could it be_ ) but she can at the very least  _try._

Keiko sighs, mentally apologizes to her father about the damage that is about to occur, and makes a run for it.


	3. XXI - XXX

**XXI.**

The world is fuzzy, and bright. She struggles to think.

Keiko doesn't exactly remember what had happened after she had almost managed to reach the back wall, albeit with knife wounds and her head slammed against the floor. That none of the blades had hit home in a fatal spot says something truly remarkable about her father's training methods, though it hadn't been enough, in the end.

Or it simply means that the assassin has been  _playing_  with her, before he kills her. She isn't quite sure which of the two it is at the moment.

But she knows that there is a knife in her leg. She knows, because it hurts, a pain with sharp teeth that  _bites_. Keiko looks down at what she can see of it from where she lies –  _it shines in what light there is_  – and wishes she hadn't moved her head when pain lances across her skull.

There is blood beneath her, warm and sticky, and she breathes deeply, resisting the urge to cough and wheeze. Her ribs are bruised; that, she is also sure of. They have always worked with wooden weapons, wooden swords capable of hitting and bruising. Never metal ones. Never ones sharp enough to injure harshly and to make her bleed, because as determined as her father is, he has refrained from using live steel in their spars for her own safety.

( _Because she is too weak. Not ready yet. Not_ good enough _yet._ )

How can she think of protecting her brother when she cannot even protect  _herself_?

Her original intentions had been to stay out of the mafia, as her tou-san does. To be a safe haven for Takeshi instead, because she knows that what is coming will be good for him, in the end. Through all of the trials. Through all of the mistakes, and the pain.

(…Perhaps she's been lying to herself the entire time. Perhaps she's been afraid of failing instead, and had chosen the coward's way out.)

But. Right here, right now, where everything that happens next hinges upon this moment –

…

She does not want to die.

The thought is crystal-clear in a world of fog. A resolution, a conviction – a truth.

 _She does not want to die_  – not until she has seen Takeshi through the story in her head, and  _live_.

(Not until she knows that she is leaving her only brother and her tou-san in good hands, and not alone in the world. Not until she knows that her Takeshi will not attempt to jump off a roof, torn by grief for a sport that he does not know is  _not worth throwing away his life for at the first sign of defeat_.)

…

…When her father bursts through the unlocked door, it is to blue fire.

**XXII.**

Tsuyoshi has never been a particularly religious man.

He has never had a cause to; a belief in a god has never stopped anyone from dying. A belief in a god has never changed the fact that his more…  _destructive skills_  are  _necessary_.

(A belief in a god has never changed things, nor will they ever excuse the blood on his hands, however hard he tries to wash them away.)

_A belief in a god has never mattered._

Still, at this moment in time with his heart in his throat and his hands gone cold and a  _fire_  building in his chest, he prays to a god he does not believe in.

_Kami, if you exist, let this not be._

Tsuyoshi had first noticed that something is  _wrong_  when he had seen the scout keeping an eye on anyone that passes by Takesushi, no matter how hard the man had tried to hide in plain sight. That part of the assassination team had been taken care of with steady hands and an increasingly fraying worry.

…He almost loses the precarious grip he has managed to establish on his self-control when he sees his daughter on the ground, surrounded by Rain. That she has been pushed to igniting her Flames is a sign in and of itself.

…

_I've… failed._

The man  _laughs_  at him, sharp and with an edge that cuts. He plays with a knife stained with blood –  _Keiko's blood_ – and gestures with it wildly. Red flicks to the ground and stains the wood dark, alight in a blue light that does not burn what it touches.

"Didn't think we'd come back, did you? Thought you'd  _finished the job_  after the last time, and that we'd given up."

Tsuyoshi does not have his blade with him, being mounted on the wall as it currently is, but a sword is not the only iron-edge weapon that he knows how to use.

He works with knives for a living; it does not matter if it is as a chef now, or as  _something else_  before.

"Though, the girl was also full of surprises. Like father, like daughter, I suppose. Shame that she doesn't seem to have any training – she might have  _survived_  if she had."

The assassin smiles, all teeth. Just beyond him is his Keiko, wrapped in premature Flames that  _should not have happened._

_He has failed to keep her from the mafia._

…Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, as patient of a man as he is normally, loses said patience.

**XXIII.**

They don't take Keiko to a hospital, because if they did they would also have to explain knife wounds, various bruises, and a concussion to the police, and it would be better to stay at home, as Takeshi is coming back from his summer camp soon.

(And if there is the added benefit that Tsuyoshi  _knows_  who is in his neighborhood, and does not have to worry about any  _more_  potential assassins disguised as staff or as patients, then he does not mention it to his daughter.)

Both he and his Keiko-chan are determined to act as if everything is normal – and it is. The body has been  _dealt with_ , in the several pieces that it had been in after Tsuyoshi had…  _adequately expressed his displeasure,_  and any markings on the walls of Takesushi and on their furniture have been removed.

Tsuyoshi's skills are not limited to sushi, or  _swordwork_. There is a reason that his restaurant has so many carved tables and chairs.

His daughter might have gained a concussion, but in his…  _long life,_  Tsuyoshi knows how to deal with those. Though conventional sense might tell him,  _scream_  at him to take her to a hospital because  _there is nothing he can do_  if her condition takes a sharp turn towards the worst, he has had concussions and has  _treated_  people with concussions for a long,  _long_  time.

Sun Flames are not the only ones capable of healing, after a sense.

He has… attempted, to explain what the blue fire had been. But his daughter had interrupted him, and had given him a small, sad smile instead.

" _I'm not supposed to have it, am I? That's alright, tou-san, really. I'd… rather not in the first place, anyway."_

He respects her decision, but worries anyway.

_The same as he had with her choice in sword style._

…But.

He had understood her choice then, and he understands her choice now.

So he smiles at his daughter and he smiles at his customers and he smiles at his son when he comes home in a blaze of laughter and (dark – he  _knows_ ) eyes that gleam.

"Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?" is all he asks when he notices his nee-chan's bandages, and does not comment when she simply hums instead of answering.

**XXIV.**

Tsuyoshi might understand his daughter's choice to refrain from training with Flames, but that does not mean that he will leave her  _defenseless._

He is… glad, that Keiko does not remark when he hands her the sparring sword she uses in a carrying sheath, and takes it anyway.

(With nary a word, with nary a smile – merely a grim tilt to her lips, and it turns something in Tsuyoshi's heart because this is  _necessary._  Just as necessary as teaching her kenjustu in the first place.

He wishes it wasn't so.)

**XXV.**

Matsuoka Satomi might be the youngest of three children and used to being treated as a mere  _afterthought_ , but she has learned things in her time as such. She has learned how to speak if she wants something from her parents, from her brothers, from  _people_ ; how to walk and behave, if she wants to go unnoticed; how to read body language, and react accordingly.

Keiko-chan and Eri-chan are probably the only people that she doesn't use her skills on regularly, other than her family and her meager connections with them; they are her friends, and she would really,  _really_ rather not. And by now, she likes to think she doesn't need to.

It doesn't change the fact that at first, she doesn't  _understand_  it when Keiko starts bringing a sheathed sparring sword to school and places it in her locker for the day before carrying it back home, after the summer break. Day in and day out, no matter the fact that they walk home almost every day, and that she  _knows_  the weight becomes tiresome on the days that they bring projects, or textbooks.

To be honest, the sudden behavior worries her, and she knows that it worries Eri, too.

She's tried asking her friend, of course, but Keiko-chan has been oddly defensive, deflecting questions or sometimes changing the subject entirely. It's only when she and Eri-chan corner their friend during lunch and bribe her with her favorite drink – lemon iced tea – that she sighs and answers.

" _A blade is useless if kept sheathed and apart from its user. There isn't a point to me learning kenjutsu if I don't have anything that even resembles a sword when I really need it."_

…And Satomi will admit that logic makes  _some_  sort of sense.

But the fact that Keiko deems it  _necessary_  to bring her  _weapon_  and  _safety blanket_  (because she knows what it is, she and Eri and Keiko had had a discussion on psychology and safety blankets, once, and she  _recognizes one when she sees it_ ) to  _school,_ where it is supposed to be a  _safe environment_  –

…That scares her beyond the initial worry more than anything else.

**XXVI.**

In hindsight, she should have expected this.

Keiko hadn't noticed him, at first. Black hair and black eyes are not rare in Namimori; her own Takeshi-kun and tou-san have the same coloring.

(Her mother had had brown hair and bright blue eyes instead – those sea-hued eyes are the ones that stand out in the photographs the most, as far as she can tell – explaining where she'd gotten her own blue eyes from, with the black hair from her tou-san.)

Looking back, Keiko now considers it a miracle that she hasn't actually  _met_  Hibari Kyoya before, and has only heard of him and his patrols and the very beginnings of his  _Namimori Disciplinary Committee_. But then again, he has never really bothered himself with the "herbivores" that keep to the rules.

Even then, she's been aware of him, somewhat – tales of his exploits, or rather, his  _fights_  have been commented upon by the various customers that wander through Takesushi's doors, have been muttered about among her year-mates at school and along with their opinions on the wild-mannered boy.

But Keiko has to admit that Hibari Kyoya has only started to take an interest in  _her,_  a student an entire two years above him and not even attending  _the same Secondary school_ , after there are words in Namimori of how she practices with a wooden sword in the dojo when Takesushi's doors are closed, and  _especially_  after she starts bringing a sparring sword in a sheath around with her on her back.

Still, it does not mean that she is  _too_  surprised when she is ambushed by the Disciplinary Committee Leader. Instead, she shifts the bag of groceries in one hand to better accommodate for the weight, and draws her sword in time to block both of his tonfa.

She has trained with her father after…  _that incident,_  and her reaction time and speed in drawing the blade have increased in  _spades._

"Ah, Hibari-san. Good morning. How are you today?"

He doesn't reply, though Keiko hadn't really expected him to. She sighs instead, slowly shifting the blade so that the majority of his force is near the pommel. People are watching, gaping; there is nothing that she can do about that, not anymore, but she  _will_  be doing her best to  _keep under the radar._

(Because the feeling of  _danger_  and that someone is  _watching her_  has never really left, not even after the deaths of the assassin and his team.)

Keiko smiles apologetically at her attacker. "I really am sorry, Hibari-san, but I have the groceries and my tou-san needs them for the shop. If you'll excuse me."

As much as she's trained with her father, as much as she's  _older_  than him, she is not even  _close_  to being a match for Hibari Kyouya – not in a straight-out spar or fight.

( _Not yet, but she_ will  _be, because there are dangerous people who are far, far stronger than him._

 _She will_ need _to be._ )

Keiko pushes him back and sheathes her blade because running with the sword in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other will be  _dangerous_ for bystanders _,_  and  _runs for the hills_.

**XXVII.**

The rest of her days pass by like that – with chores and errands to run and homework to finish and projects to complete and  _training and training and training._

(She doesn't mention her brief spats with Hibari Kyouya before she inevitably leaves to tou-san or Takeshi-kun, but she thinks they know, anyway. And it's rather hard to ignore the gossip amongst the town about the clashes between the two of them, what with almost everyone coming through Takesushi's doors either subtly or not-at-all subtly asking about the fights.

But tou-san and Takeshi never mention it, and for that, Keiko is grateful.)

Satomi and Eri ask questions about her new habit of bringing her blade with her and, later, about the rumors surrounding her and Hibari-san. They are satisfied with half-answers, though she  _knows_  they know it is not the whole truth, and she is left to her studies and her training.

(And Hibari Kyouya, the stubborn, stubborn boy. Sometimes she wishes he would simply  _calm down_  and have a cup of tea instead of defaulting to spar-fights, but she knows that will never happen – not until he stops snarling that she is not giving him a  _proper_  fight, at least.)

Their father runs the shop. She studies, and trains. Takeshi keeps up with baseball practice, and makes it into the team that he's been aiming for and training for with the summer camp.

It is… a return to  _normalcy,_ or whatever that might be in her world that has started to slide sideways, and Keiko is grateful for it, immensely.

(She is grateful for the chance for things to settle down and let Takeshi  _have a childhood,_  again.)

**XXVIII.**

Takeshi is… not having the most normal of days, at the moment.

If he is being honest, it had started with him noticing that one, small brown-haired boy staring at him and his nee-chan like all of the adults had been. But  _his_  eyes had been different.

( _Like he_ knows _and_ understands.)

He sees the boy again, and again, and again – and, as his  _nee-chan_  would say, that is not surprising. They do go to the same Primary school, after all.

But the eyes never  _change._

He would like to talk to the boy – he really would. It's just that with baseball practice and baseball training and team meets and competition meets and with his tou-chan and his nee-chan trying to cram  _knowledge_  into his brain in-between, the boy sort of gets swept away along with the crowd that roars in his ears when he swings his bat.

Whenever he can spare a thought for the boy, he feels guilt at never  _following through_  with his intentions. But then Eisen-san, the baseball team coach, brings the team together with a clap of his hands and a blow of his whistle for a meeting and Togai-kun whispers to him during it and Kuniaki-kun slings his arm around his shoulder –

…He's probably imagining things, anyway. Takeshi dives into the fervor of baseball and lets himself  _forget._

**XXIX.**

If there is anything that Kikkawa Magohachi knows for a  _fact,_  it is that Dame-Tsuna is both the most pathetic person he has ever met, and that the boy is the easiest to get lunch out of.

They have had an arrangement for the better part of the year, see. As much of a  _failure_  as Dame-Tsuna is, his kaa-chan is mildly famous in Namimori Primary for her cooking.

It's a waste, giving them to someone like  _Dame-Tsuna_. Magohachi doesn't mind…  _giving that to someone who would appreciate it more._  Or at least, someone who doesn't trip on his own shoelaces and can actually walk on stairs without falling and not fail spectacularly at sports.

He knows that no one will try and stop him – some of his friends will even  _help him,_  in return for some of the food.

But it's not the food that he wants today. It's the brat's  _things,_  because there is nothing more hilarious to watch than seeing Dame-Tsuna stutter his way through an apology to Onoda-sensei, only to get shot down in front of the entire class.

That, too, is something that he knows that his friends will help him with.

**XXX.**

Namimori is a small town. Most everyone know each other through a friend-of-a-friend, at the very least, if they are not casual acquaintances themselves.

Still, it doesn't mean that Keiko recognizes the brown-haired boy on sight when viewed from the back. It doesn't matter, though – reluctant to draw attention to herself or not, a  _beating_  and  _thievery_  is not something that she can see, and simply walk away from.

( _Some would call it a weakness. But it keeps her human._

 _And the fact is, there is always the thought of it-could-have-been-_ Takeshi  _in the back of her mind._ )

Schoolyard bullies are easily scared away with a drawn sparring sword and  _intention_  hidden in eyes. Though it might not work long-term, it is an acceptable immediate solution. Keiko sighs and puts the blade back where it belongs in its sheath and turns half-way around to where she'd put the boy at her back to protect him and –

…

… _She knows that boy._

She might not have been paying attention to the affairs of Namimori as closely as she should have been, perhaps, nor has she been refreshing her memory of  _the story in her head_  in relevance to anyone  _other_  than her Takeshi-kun. But she remembers him.

"A—ahh. T-thank y-you, stranger-s-san."

_Bearer of the Sky and the future Head of the Vongola Famiglia._

_Sawada Tsunayoshi._

"A-ah? S-st-stranger-s-san? A-are y-you, um. Okay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you think.
> 
> Questions for this time: would you rather see Takeshi and Keiko being friends/acquaintances of Tsuna's early on, or not? There are plans for each consequence, but I would like to hear your opinions before setting that in stone.


	4. XXXI - XL

**XXXI.**

He knows what the others say about him. Dame-Tsuna. Good-For-Nothing. Useless. At sports, at school, at  _everything._

He can't even do anything when the other Primary school kids in class take his lunch. His teachers have given up on him.

(His mother, as much as he loves her, cannot seem to  _understand._  He's long since given up trying to make her.)

In the end, it means that even when the bullies corner him in one of the small street backways that he normally takes to  _avoid_  them, there is no one around to help, nor is he inclined to try and fight back.

"You know what we want,  _Da-me-Tsu-na,"_  Kikkawa jeers, and Tsuna hangs onto the strap of his backpack with all the desperation that he feels running through his body at the moment. Today's homework is a large portion of his overall grade, and no doubt, Kikkawa and  _his_  friends will take the papers that Onoda-sensei had given out.

As much as he's given up, he doesn't want to be singled out by the ill-tempered sensei _again._

(But what choice does he have?)

He's in the middle of slowly shrugging his backpack strap from his shoulder when  _she_  appears.

…

… _What._

At the moment, all he can see of her is the back of her head, her own schoolbag, and  _is that a sword._  He's too trapped by fear to move, and it's only when Kikkawa and his gang backs away that he breathes out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

When she turns around, he doesn't recognize her, but he bows anyway. Courtesy is the least thing that he can show to the person who's saved him, who'd  _stood up to Kikkawa_.

(No one has ever done that for him before.)

"A—ahh. T-thank y-you, stranger-s-san."

Stranger-san isn't an adult, is the first thing that he notices. The second is that she seems to be in some state of shock, face pale and eyes…  _startled,_  is the best word that comes to mind.

( _Maybe it's from saving_ Dame-Tsuna, _a voice in his mind sneers, and he pushes the thought down. Not now not now notnow_ notnow.)

"A-ah? S-st-stranger-san? A-are y-you, um. Okay?"

His words seem to jolt her back into reality, at the very least, and she shakes her head briefly, up and down. Her eyes never leave his face, and Tsuna tries not to shuffle his feet or duck his head. He fails and, with his eyes to the ground, shifts his weight from foot to foot.

"I'm fine."

That's all she says before she looks away to where Kikkawa and his group had ran. He flails, for a moment – should he leave? Say something?

"…Does this happen often?"

Her voice cuts through his increasingly panicking thoughts, and Tsuna jerks his head up so quickly that he feels his neck complain at him. "A-ah. W-what… do you m-mean, st-stranger-san?"

She doesn't speak slowly, like some of the adults do sometimes, and he's grateful for that. She doesn't speak like he's a particularly dull child who can't understand sentences spoken in rapid-fire Japanese – because he  _can._  It's just the  _people_  that he has problems with. "I mean, do the other students… attempt to take your things often?"

He… doesn't really have an answer to that question. On the one hand,  _yes_  is on the tip of his tongue, but on the other, stranger-san is the first person that he has met that does not start speaking or acting based on what she has heard about him.

(She is currently the first person to  _ask_  instead of  _assume,_  as close to the truth that they are all capable of coming to.)

"Ah…"

Stranger-san pauses. Her eyes aren't…  _startled,_  anymore, but Tsuna can't put a word to the emotion, all the same. "…I'm thirsty. Care to come with me for a drink?" she asks, and gestures in the general direction of the town square.

…

…With more than a little nervousness and apprehension, Tsuna follows.

(It's only when they've sat down in the corner of a café that he realizes why she looks familiar – she is the sister of Yamamoto Takeshi, another student in his year group whose family only has the one parent and no other relatives, like his.)

**XXXII.**

This… will irreparably change things, Keiko knows.

Never has the story in her head mentioned anything about anyone stepping in on  _Sawada's_ side of the conflict, in his younger years. And until Gokudera Hayato and Sasagawa Ryohei and  _her own Takeshi-kun_ , she doesn't think anyone else  _has_ , either.

That does not matter now, though. Not with Sawada in front of her, refusing to touch the glass of lemonade that she'd placed in front of him, bought from the café; not with his eyes nervously flicking around the establishment, always darting away from the startled peoples' faces.

(Not with his eyes always,  _always_  circling back to her, then to the lemonade, as if she is someone whose actions and motives he cannot  _understand_.)

To have him at such a young age, and yet suspecting of so much –  _what if it had been_ Takeshi, is always at the forefront of her mind.

It is an illogical thought, but worries are not always logical. If Takeshi hadn't been as outgoing as he is; as easy-going as he is; as friendly as he is –

( _If he'd been_ home _that day, because he didn't have a nee-chan to leave his precious tou-chan at home with–_ )

To be honest, she sees something of her brother in Sawada Tsunayoshi; but that is not the only reason that she has helped him.

It may have started as a simple as refusing to let anyone be mistreated while  _she_  is  _standing there,_  but that is not the reason that she will  _continue_  to help him.

(Somewhere in her heart of hearts, she admits that resistance had been useless the moment she'd seen an  _eight-year-old_  being bullied to Sawada's extent.)

"A-ah. Um. Stranger-san…" Sawada says, and Keiko turns her attention towards him. "Y-you… don't happen t-to know Y-yam-mamoto Takeshi-k-kun, do you?"

She does not react, she is  _sure_  of that –  _don't scare him don't scare him don'tscare_ him – but the small brown-haired boy shrinks back into his seat, anyway, a small " _Hiee!"_ dying in the back of his throat. He leaves the lemonade on the table  _– hasn't touched it, hasn't even taken a_ sip _, when has it been the last time he'd properly_ rehydrated – and wrings his hands around and around in his lap.

Keiko has to turn over his words in her mind for a moment before she finds she can properly respond. "I do; I'm his nee-chan, actually – Yamamoto Keiko. How do you know Takeshi-kun, ah…"

Knowing peoples' names before they've introduced themselves is the quickest way to suspicion, even in small Namimori.

"I-I'm S-sawad-da T-tsunay-yoshi," he says quickly. His hands go around and around and around.  _Only eight years old._

She tries to give him a reassuring smile, and at the very least, Sawada – no,  _Sawada-kun_ – stops wringing his hands and destroying his fingers. "Sawada-kun, then. I'm guessing you're in his Primary grade year?"

He nods. His hair flops up and down, still in the stages of childhood. He reminds her  _so much_  of Takeshi, even with the monumental differences in their lives.

(…She might have been afraid to change things, once.

Not now.

Not with eight-year-old bullied and shunned Sawada-kun before her, with daily worries that include being  _humiliated_  by disapproving adults and classmates alike.)

Keiko smiles at him, and makes her words as sincere as she possibly can. It's not as hard as she thinks it should have been. "Why don't you come over to our place for today, then? You and Takeshi-kun can play together, or something."

Sawada-kun's smile is hesitant, but radiant in its own way.

**XXXIII.**

Takeshi pushes open the doors to Takesushi, grins at the small bell chiming from its place hung on the door, and yells out a greeting into the shop proper. The wave from his tou-chan and quick glance from his nee-chan are expected.

The boy that said nee-chan is bent over books with is not.

Takeshi blinks at the sight a couple of times, his bag of sports equipment swinging over his shoulder, while the brown-haired boy –  _it's the same boy,_  he realizes with a jolt, the one that he's been keeping a side-eye on – startles and hurriedly stands up.  _"Hieeeee!"_

He might have moved too quickly, though, because he falls down, tripping onto the hardwood floor.

"Whoa! Are you alright?" Takeshi yells, and drops his bag where he stands to hurry over to the boy – Sawada, isn't it? Just because he hasn't been able to  _talk_  to the boy himself yet doesn't mean that he's  _deaf._  He can hear Onoda-sensei yelling just fine. – "That looked like it hurt!"

The other boy groans from where he lies, and only gets up when Takeshi and his nee-chan drag him upright and into a chair. "S -sorry," he whispers quickly, eyes lowered.

Takeshi doesn't like the sight. "Maa, maa.  _I'm_  sorry for startling you," he says, even if he's not exactly sure why  _this boy_  is here in Takesushi.

And, as always, his Keiko-nee proves that she's  _good at this game_ – it doesn't matter how much she denies it, and if he doesn't know better he'd say that she's cheating – and answers his unspoken question.

"I was helping Sawada-kun with his homework while we were waiting for you." His nee-chan's eyes move towards the table stacked with papers, and then with a pointed look at Takeshi's own bag – "Why don't you join us, otouto?"

He groans good-naturedly, and shoots Sawada a sheepish grin when Keiko-nee isn't looking. Sawada smiles back, with none of the usual shyness or clumsiness or, and he hates to use the word but it fits,  _dame-ness_  that is so common at school.

Until he trips over his chair trying to stand up to get water, but Takeshi doesn't exactly care about Sawada's mishaps by then; not that he ever has, anyway, and he likes to think that the other boy is grateful for that.

All in all, it takes them an hour or so for his Keiko-nee to explain the math concepts to the both of them, as well as look over their  _kanji_  worksheets, though it should have taken less time than it had. Takeshi doesn't exactly mind the extra time, either – he's been meaning to speak with Sawada, anyway, and he doesn't blame his classmate for needing extra explanations.

(He's never quite agreed with the other senseis at school, but had always thought that they knew how to best teach. He regrets that choice, now, when Keiko-nee has to explain  _order of operations_  in a way that makes sense to Sawada.)

Takeshi is there for Sawada's hesitant replies and noticeably blank spaces where someone else might have included his nee-chan's name, though, or finishing his sentences with "Yamamoto-san" and nervous movements with his fingers.

This is quite abrupt, but.

…

…But.

He can't make decisions for his nee-chan, but he  _can_  start reaching out to Sawada, as he's always intended.

(And maybe he'll be able to find out why he has  _those eyes_  of his, the ones that  _understand_  Takeshi's predicament among Namimori.)

**XXXIV.**

Hibari Kyouya is not a patient person in any sense of the word – not when there is a fight to be had that dances just out of his grip, elusive and sly.

It makes no sense to him – why would an herbivore that has  _grown fangs_  hide said fangs from the world? Given, it is not as if Yamamoto Keiko is  _actively_ hiding her strength; not anymore. Not since the beginning of their chases across town, metal tonfa against wooden blade.

Still, why would she  _run?_  He  _knows_  her skill, her own right as a  _carnivore_.

(It is not as if she is the first that has shown such capacity – his  _Disciplinary Committee_  is a show of that fact – but Yamamoto Keiko  _is_  the first to stand her ground, then retreat.

 _An enigma. Why, why, why, why, why?_ )

In his patrols around the town, he does not see the other much. Legally, she is in Secondary and he should still be in Primary; but when has  _Hibari Kyouya_ ever listened to the  _herbivores'_ rules?

Yet, even with that fact, it is as if she does not venture out into Namimori, other than attending school and returning home.

He has debated visiting Takesushi and challenging her, but declines the thought in the end.

(Over time, the chases have become… almost  _amusing._  Like playing with a predator that can  _fight back,_  yet chooses not to. It is a rush that is, in some ways, better than his other fights.)

But.

The prospect of a  _true_  battle – one without running, nor cunning maneuvering, nor  _any_ of the various tricks that Yamamoto Keiko uses to escape the fight – brings a sharp smile to his lips and a thrumming through his veins, a sharpness that falls over his mind.

It will only be a matter of time until he will get her to fight seriously – and then.

Then, Kyouya will be satisfied, and not a moment before.

**XXXV.**

It is, again, something that she should have expected – though this time, she has had a good cause not to  _completely_  expect something. Even with a precedent.

The feeling that she is being  _watched_  grows, and grows, and grows, until she is reacting to looks across the street and feels more at home in a crowd and with easy exit points than she ever has before.

It doesn't amount to anything – until it does.

After the  _example_  that her father has made of people targeting his family, Keiko had really thought that they would know better than to try a direct attack.

People might live and learn, but the  _mafia_  is insistent upon vendettas and revenge.

(Her only consolation is that these assassins are here for a different reason than the one that had… first attacked her family _._ )

Still, it doesn't make her reactions any different – but this time, she has a weapon on-hand, no matter that it is made of mere wood.

_Spin, slash, raise the blade to block. Kata number four, commonly used for deflecting momentum._

It's almost funny, really, how many people think that little girls will be  _weak._  Will not be  _prepared._  And of those that do see through the deception that Tsuyoshi has hovered around his family, none of them are prepared for the exact  _nature_  of the counterattack.

Keiko has grown, these past months with her tou-san and her spars with Hibari Kyouya. The day until her true mastery over her sword style is not far.

Thankfully enough, however, this time the assassin chooses a time that Takeshi and Sawada-kun are at the park, the former attempting to teach the latter more about baseball.

This time, her father is home with her.

_Bad timing, or bad reconnaissance. Either way, it works out._

It goes… better, this time, and they manage to keep the damage to the shop to a minimum.

It wouldn't do to frighten away Sawada-kun now that her brother's actively making an attempt to get to know the other boy.

(It makes her entire  _life_  easier, knowing that Takeshi might not have to risk himself on a plunge to the earth from an entire building up, wrought with despair, to get Sawada-kun to  _notice_ him and to give him the option of a life that she  _knows_  he will value above all, in the end.)

**XXXVI.**

It's more difficult than he'd first thought, teaching Sawada – no, _Tsuna-kun,_  because the brunette's face lights up with a smile when he does as if no one's ever used it the way Takeshi's used it before – teaching  _Tsuna-kun_  how to play baseball. But Yamamoto Takeshi is not a  _quitter._

(Both his tou-chan and his nee-chan will  _kill_  him if he ever turns into one.)

It takes more than a slight bit of maneuvering to get Tsuna-kun into the correct position for batting, and then to not get him to tremble whenever Takeshi pitches the ball as gently as he can, even though he's always been more of a batter than a pitcher.

But he likes to think it's worth it in the end, because –

Because it  _is._

Just the happy grin and the triumphant look that he shoots Takeshi would be worth it by themselves, but when Tsuna-kun gets over his stutter and nervousness and gives him a hug?

_Priceless._

(He doesn't know why he's been pushing off talking to Tsuna-kun before, but he knows he's not going to stop.

It's… somewhat like having an actual  _friend,_  outside of baseball. It's… a  _good_  sort of feeling.)

**XXXVII.**

After that, it's easy to talk to Tsuna-kun in school, easy to walk home with him. The other boy doesn't have grand expectations for him, only watches with those brown eyes and smiles and is honest and sincere to the point where Takeshi wonders why, exactly, it is that the other children and the senseis target him.

(People can be cruel; Takeshi knows this. It's part of the reason why everything's a game to him, in the end.

_If you're playing a game, there are rules, and those who break the rules, he can deal with._

Even without tou-chan or nee-chan – he doesn't want to worry them, after all.)

Following the…  _first incident,_  Takeshi takes to either inviting Tsuna-kun over to his father's shop every day after baseball practice, or walks his friend – and what a joy it is to say that, without anything  _else_  behind it, not  _teammate_ or  _classmate_  or anything else, just  _friend_  – home.

(Takeshi might be young, might only be  _just_  getting into the upper years of Primary, but he is not  _stupid._  He isn't  _deaf,_  or  _blind._  Like the whispers that the other parents had had about him and his nee-chan and his tou-chan, those early years, he notices it when people start talking about him and Tsuna-kun.)

But still, life is always a game in the end, isn't it? Fresh-cut grass and blue sky and white clouds overhead, the rush of  _victory_  when he hits a home run.

He's always had his tou-chan and his nee-chan beside him for those. And now –

With the sky turning darker and sunset getting earlier and leaves falling to the ground –

He likes to think that he'll have Tsuna-kun, too.

**XXXVIII.**

Yamamoto Takeshi is  _nothing_  like Tsuna had ever imagined.

When he'd first heard the whispers where adults had thought he couldn't listen, he hadn't believed it. Namimori is a town known for its peace, strictly kept by the Hibari family, and later, by Hibari Kyouya himself – a family with only the one parent and no other relatives is rare.

Rare enough that he'd thought that he and his kaa-chan had been the only ones, first.

But they  _aren't,_  and Tsuna is still on the fact that moreover, Yamamoto Takeshi,  _the_  baseball star, is on speaking terms with  _Dame-Tsuna._

On  _friendly_  terms with him, and –

It's embarrassing, to have to have this spelled out to him, but then again, Tsuna's been humiliating himself for a while now. With stumbles over mere air, with accidents down the stairs, with the utter  _disaster_  that he is in the classroom.

Surely, one more humiliation to ask if he and Yamamoto Takeshi are friends is nothing more.

(That's what he tells himself, hands wringing themselves as he waits for the other boy to finish with baseball practice.

 _Maa, maa,_  is all Takeshi-kun tells him when he asks, though.  _Of course I am. Don't worry, Tsuna –_  and it's the first time that Takeshi-kun has dropped the suffix, though unknown to him, it won't be the last, not by a long shot –  _because, I mean,_ someone _has to make sure that you hone your baseball skills properly, right?_ )

And it's sort of pathetic, really, that he needs  _that_ sort of reassurance, but he smiles at Takeshi-kun and heads home with a warm body by his side in the fall's slowly-creeping cold, no bullies in sight.

**XXXIX.**

Her lights are off, but her walls are lit from lights outside, casting shadows and darkening parts of her room.

It had taken Takeshi and Sawada-kun spending more time together than she'd suspected to remind her of the fact, but –

_Gokudera Hayato. Vongola Tenth's Right Hand, and Storm Guardian._

By bringing her brother and Sawada Tsunayoshi together at an early age as childhood friends, she might as well have  _ruined_  the Italian's chance at having a close relationship with Sawada-kun, even moreso than a welcoming Famiglia.

(But – and this is the catalyst that Keiko finds that, in hindsight, she hates about herself but does not have the heart to fix – she  _does not care._

 _Not when the other option is to have left things the way they had been going, and the consequences afterwards._ )

To her, at the moment, Gokudera Hayato is merely a name. There is not a person that she has connected to with the string of characters, the given name and surnames.

(It is the same with Reborn, because at this rate, where  _she_  is the one who has somehow ended up helping Sawada-kun with his homework along with her own otouto, she will make his entire job  _pointless_.

But right here, right now, she does not  _care_ – not when eight, soon-to-be nine-year-old Sawada Tsunayoshi sits at one of the corner tables in her father's shop and struggles through his  _kanji_  every day, even with her guidance and Takeshi's ever-reliable encouragement.)

She doesn't quite know what this says about her, but on one of winter's first nights where the temperature drops even in her second-floor bedroom, ruthlessness on behalf of her brother is something that… she can make  _peace_ with, in a sense.

**XL.**

Of course, it's  _then_  that Takeshi decides to reveal to them that he's brought an Akita Inu home – a happy, sandy-colored thing, tail wagging and tongue lolling like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"His name," Takeshi says proudly, "is Jirou."

…

_…Jirou, the Box Weapon, ten, fifteen years into the future. Or perhaps the Box Weapon had been named after Jirou, the dog._

The odd thing, though, is that it is  _Takeshi_  who had brought the dog home, but it had been  _Sawada-kun_  that had taken the role of convincing her and tou-san to let it stay. With wide eyes and his constant stutter, quietly terrified of the dog, but – he'd stood up for it.

And that, in and of itself, tells Keiko that things have  _already_  started changing, five, six months into the two boys' first meeting.

(Perhaps she should have known that, when she had introduced her brother and the brunette early, and they had hit it off like good friends – best friends, even, maybe, and she is  _glad_ for that – ever since.

Because Keiko  _knows_  what Sawada-kun's home life is like, alone without a father and with a mother that, supposedly, cooks like a dream and yet does nothing. Only some of the facts are from the story in her head – the rest are from gossip among Namimori, intertwined with the people that insist  _Nana-san is a perfectly wonderful woman,_  and those that say  _her child is a menace and a danger to himself._

She has yet to meet the woman, and already, she is dreading the encounter.)

Though, the actual  _persuading_  doesn't take too much – Jirou, whenever their father tries to chase him out, always ends up trotting through Takesushi's doors on her otouto's heels.

It helps that Jirou, for all of his devotion to her Takeshi-kun, adores both her father and her, in the end.

(It helps that, when she really needs one, Jirou becomes a  _warning system_  for her brother, for Sawada-kun, and for any…  _strangers,_  in the house, in the end.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer than what I've been writing. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Questions, again, for those who have so kindly replied last time (and perhaps for those who will comment this time):
> 
> 1\. Are there any specific point-of-views that you would like to see?
> 
> 2\. Did anything in this set particularly surprise you?


	5. XLI - L

**XLI.**

Teaching is a hazardous job – both for the mental health and the physical, when one affects the other and stress threatens to take over one's life. It's a job in which the educators are underappreciated, misunderstood, and often blamed when things go wrong.

That is not the case with one Sawada Tsunayoshi. The  _boy_  is the one who is blamed, is infamous for his horrid reputation in academics, as well as his clumsiness and unbelievable lack of hand-eye coordination. Onoda Hatsue hadn't wished to believe the rumors at first, because could one  _really_  be that bad at  _everything_  at his age?

She'd understood, though, after that first week of school. Her mint-green cashmere sweater will never be the same again, no matter how many times she sends it to the cleaner's.

Still, Hatsue has tried the best that she could; she has given Sawada-kun chances, has hand-waved those first few grades and ridiculous excuses aside.

But she is only human – as much as she is a teacher, as much as patience is  _valued_  in one in her position, after half a year of having Sawada Tsunayoshi in her class she finds her patience close to nil, at this point.

She knows that she has an ill temper. It is a problem that has resurfaced again, and again, and again. It means that she is one of the teachers that students are wary of; it means that when she gives up on a student, she does not regret, nor look back.

It makes it  _that_  much more surprising when the brown-haired boy starts to bring in better-completed work, slowly, as if knowledge has started to trickle into his head at a snail's pace. It's not something that she has expected, not this far into the school year, but it's the fact that this change has started to happen after the winter break that has caught her attention.

There are only a few explanations for the change, as subtle as it is; and she doesn't think that Sawada-kun has suddenly been able to get smarter, nor enhance his ability to learn in such a short period of time, either. So there is only one explanation, and she asks Sawada-kun to stay right as the bell dismisses the rest of the students for lunch.

The children filing out snicker and murmur among themselves, with scattered laughter here and there, but only one waits without a care of being left behind. "This won't take long," Hatsue calls out, and Yamamoto Takeshi tosses her a sheepish grin and ceases to hover by her door.

Sawada Tsunayoshi had jerked his head, clearly surprised, when she had spoken not to her but to the Yamamoto boy instead, and there is a shock in his eyes, then… something more  _unreadable,_  before Hatsue brings his attention back to her. She takes note of the changes, but doesn't comment.

She hasn't called him here for that, after all.

A quick shuffle of papers, and then – she pulls it out, pinched between two fingers, and carefully lays it before Sawada-kun. It's still something she's not quite sure of, and handles it appropriately. "You've improved," Hatsue says, and watches for a reaction. She's rewarded with a dumbfounded expression, then rapid glances from the basic quiz from the day before to her own face.

The score on that test is marginally higher than what Sawada-kun usually gets – a good four points higher, at the very least. And this has been a pattern for the last two weeks, so far.

"I don't know how you're doing it, Sawada-kun," she says when the boy before her doesn't do anything else other than stare at the paper. Hatsue hasn't passed anything back yet, has been hoping for a trend to present itself, so she knows that it's his first time seeing himself get a grade better than a failing one. She lets him savor the moment before she continues. "But please, keep it up. You might actually pass the class at this rate."

She hadn't expected Sawada Tsunayoshi to get anything other than a failing grade in her class. She hadn't expected him to give her a look any other than the pitiful one that he gives when she asks exactly  _why_  he doesn't have his homework.

So the beaming smile that Sawada-kun gives her comes completely out of nowhere and surprises her.

(One day, she will look back on this and  _wonder._ )

**XLII.**

It's a rare sort of day, when she walks Sawada-kun home, shortening her strides to let both her brother and his friend keep up. She doesn't do this often – and to be honest, she hasn't even stayed long enough to meet Sawada Nana, always waving him off at the front door to his instead.

But Sawada-kun is happy, joyous, even, and completely ecstatic to be able to show his mother an improvement in his grades, even if he does act a little nervous to be introducing his impromptu tutor at the same time.

Keiko… doesn't know, exactly, what to expect. The entirety of the story in her head, as well as what she can piece together from the self-contradictory town gossip, all point to Sawada Nana being a less-than-ideal mother.

However, she is not one to judge someone before she has truly met them.

(Isn't that what had happened to Sawada-kun, after all, as well as herself and her otouto, when people refuse to  _ask_  and only  _assume_?)

"Ah, welcome, welcome! Please, come in! I didn't expect to see the one who's helping my son!"

…

…

…Sawada Nana is a different matter altogether.

Keiko pastes a false smile over her face and tilts her chin up, pushes her shoulders back, to meet that completely oblivious grin and the  _wrongwrongwrong_  mannerisms of the woman. "It's no trouble at all," she says, and watches Sawada-kun and her brother quickly toe off their shoes and hurry up the stairs.

She is led into the sitting room, sat down at the table, alone with a cup of tea as Sawada Nana busies herself in the kitchen to prepare light refreshments.

The only pictures on the walls are over half a decade old, from when Tsunayoshi-kun had been a young child, younger than he is now, and when his father had actually been  _home._

She knows who Sawada Iemitsu is –  _head of a part of the mafia,_  the story in her head goes, while the rest of the world insists  _a simple construction worker supporting his family_  – and tries not to frown.

(The entire house feels  _wrong_  to her, feels  _false,_  somehow, even when it is a Sky's refuge.)

"There you go!" Sawada Nana says, placing down a tray of an assortment of cookies, laid out in a spiral that's pleasing to the eye as she sits down herself opposite of Keiko. "I really do have to thank you for helping my son, Yamamoto-san. He's told me quite a bit about you."

"Ah, really?" Keiko paints a chagrined tilt onto her lips, and tries to calm her fingers' twitching for the sword case she'd placed with her shoes, near the front door and out of reach. "Only good things, I hope."

"Only good things," the mother confirms, gripping at her own tea and pausing to take a sip. Her teeth are a brilliant white, moreso than what she'd have thought. "And you've really helped my Tsuna-kun so much! He's no longer that useless son that he was."

And.

There it is.

Sawada Nana does not even  _flinch_  as she says those words – " _useless son."_

(As if she's  _resigned herself_  to her son being a disaster forever, as if she's signed him off as a failure  _already._  Without even  _trying_  beyond flimsy attempts at a tutor, or in this case, harsh discouragement.

 _There is a reason Keiko resents automatic assumptions, though they are, in this case, correct._ )

 _Kami-sama,_  she hadn't expected Sawada Nana to be this bad.

(Somewhere, she might have even hoped that all of the warning bells in her head and the harsh words spoken by the older generation might have been false, might have been unfounded.

Right now, even though she can sense that there is…  _something else_  buried beneath the Sawada woman's completely oblivious way of dragging down her son, Keiko has to resist the urge to walk out the door with Sawada-kun in tow.)

"He's improved," she says instead, neutrally, diplomatically. Her words come out flatly, and a distant part of her wonders at just  _how_  she is keeping herself civil. Sawada Nana doesn't even  _notice._  "I apologize, but I need to get back to the shop – today's a weekday and my tou-san needs help. Do you mind Takeshi-kun staying over before coming home?"

"Of course not, he's welcome to!" The older woman waves off her words with a smile. She's hasn't stopped beaming this entire time, and  _oh_ , is that why she feels uneasy, other than the sheer  _audacity_ of her behavior towards her own son?

Keiko leaves with her hand reaching for a weapon she does not have the right to use (not for this, as much as she wishes to) and her brother a vanguard for a lost little boy, or what amounts to one, anyway.

(Still, though, she wouldn't change it for anything – not here, not now, not with  _Sawada Nana_  in the picture, a slow poison that no one else will ever see coming.)

**XLIII.**

Baseball might be slow-going, but it is a tradition that he and Tsuna-kun have kept up for a while, now.

Well. "Tradition" might be overdoing it, but in Takeshi's mind, they've been doing this for months, so it counts as a tradition, right?

(It counts as something  _friends_  do, right?)

So.

As it stands: baseball is a  _tradition._

 _Tradition that has no right to be broken, to be_ interrupted, _by someone who doesn't_ understand.

"I bet you cheated," Kikkawa jeers, and Tsuna-kun hides behind Takeshi, who finds he doesn't mind. He's too angry at the other Primary boy and his  _bully-friends_  to do so.

(See, the funny thing is Takeshi doesn't get angry easily. He might get annoyed and irritated, sure. He just hides those with a smile and a laugh and pretends not to see, because it's just  _easier_  to  _pretend_ , sometimes.

But when he  _does_  get actually angry –

He's learned a lot of things from his nee-chan. One of those things is how to turn that anger into something cold, something  _arctic,_ something that even he'd been afraid of, once, before he'd turned it into his own.)

"Got any proof?" he asks right back, mouth curling up into a smile because he  _knows_  Kikkawa can't prove it. The other boy had lost even before he'd stepped up to the plate.

Yamamoto Takeshi doesn't get angry easily, and everyone knows it for a fact. They're too used to seeing him smile to think any differently.

But he is his tou-chan's son, and his nee-chan's brother.

His question doesn't throw Kikkawa off, unfortunately; the other boy's got something to prove, after all, and he can't back down so easily. Not in front of his friends.

(Images to keep, and maybe somewhere in the future he'd have had the same mindset. It's out of the ballpark, now, not even a possibility anymore.)

Kikkawa's smile is ugly, and there's something not quite like the classmate that Takeshi's known the entirety of Primary in it. "We don't need one –  _everyone_ knows that Dame-Tsuna couldn't pull of something like  _that._  Onoda's just going too soft on him, is all, don't want to break poor, fragile  _Tsuna-kun's feelings,_  do we? Of course he cheated. Let us through, Yamamoto."

The baseball bat is light in Takeshi's hands, and he can feel his shoulders settling, feels the rest of his body rest into that funny state that it gets into right when a major baseball game is about to start and he's at the plate, bat on his shoulder and his cap blocking the sun, the crowd roaring in his ears –

No. There isn't the scent of freshly-cut grass here, only wet ones from the night before and dirt-now-mud. This isn't the baseball field, this is  _Namimori,_  and he has Tsuna-kun at his back, Kikkawa and his  _bullies_  in front of him, and a baseball bat in his hands, and he isn't afraid to use it – not for Tsuna.

Never for Tsuna.

"No proof, then. Is this a game? Because then I'll win!"

(This is a game because then Takeshi has to win,  _or else._ )

(Nee-chan just sighs at him, afterwards, and he gives her a sheepish laugh but Tsuna-kun comes out of the whole thing without a bruise, just mud splatter, and  _that_  is what Takeshi takes pride in and  _that_  is what makes the last two hours a win.

 _Though somehow, you're not suspended for it, and isn't that a funny thing?_  is all she has to say, a day later. There's a smile, somewhere, like the one that she'd given Jirou when she'd taught him how to attack targets. It's not a very nice smile.

Takeshi has the best nee-chan in the  _world._ )

**XLIV.**

"You've come a long way, Keiko," her father starts. The two of them are sitting  _seiza_  in the dojo, dressed in sparring gear. He is not a man who gives compliments lightly, and she lets pride fill her chest, just a bit.

Yamamoto Tsuyoshi continues to speak, hands on his knees and seemingly at ease with the topic. "I'll be honest with you – when you had first thought to learn this style, I was quite surprised. And worried. I don't have a reason to be, I know that now, but in the beginning you would have probably given this old man's heart fewer heart attacks had you gone with the  _Shigure Soen Ryu._ "

She refuses to feel guilt at that, and tou-san chuckles to himself, just a bit, at her knowing glare. Because he'd  _known_  her reasons when she'd first explained her choice, or at the very least enough of it for him to believe her, and both of them know that. Her father is just as bad as Takeshi at attempting to guilt-trip, sometimes.

"But now, we're almost nearing the end of your training." He grins at her confusion, and she imagines that at least some of her nerves are showing on her face. "And, though this isn't included in the  _Shigure Soen Ryu_ or any of the other styles I've shown you, it is one of the reasons that few people choose to learn what  _you_ chose in the first place."

Her father, her stalwart guide in kenjutsu for the last year and to whom she owes her sword skills to, reveals the object that he's been hiding – a blindfold.

"…really, tou-san?  _Really?_ "

This time he outright laughs. "It's not my fault that you chose something that requires more bruises than normal!"

( _It's not my fault you wanted such a_ challenge.)

…

…

…if this is a  _challenge,_  then so be it.

Keiko takes the blindfold from her father, puts it on, and resigns herself to an aching body in the morning.

**XLV.**

Satomi might have her reservations, but Eri isn't a fool. A single child she might be, but she  _knows_  more than she lets on.

(That is her role in their little group, isn't it? Satomi hides where none can find and Keiko hides in plain sight but Eri is the one that  _sees_.)

They hadn't been the only ones who'd noticed Keiko's sudden fondness of a sparring sword, of her newfound habits of bringing it to school and back, even though she doesn't use for the entire duration of class. The kendo team is thoroughly confused, and Eri knows that they're at least not  _insulted_  when Keiko turns down their invitations to join, and thankful for it.

Midori is a highly competitive school, and sometimes people just don't have the  _time._

But still.

Satomi thinks that the shinai is Keiko's security blanket, something to help keep her  _safe_  within Midori's grounds, and Eri isn't dismissing that theory. Far be it from her, because that is a highly probable reason and something that worries her, too.

But after she hears about Sawada Tsunayoshi and Yamamoto Takeshi and Keiko's involvement in both of the two boys' lives, she has to admit that the picture that these puzzle pieces are making is something entirely different.

Takei Eri is an only child, so she will never fully know Keiko's protective streak, just as she will never fully know Satomi's annoyance at older siblings. But that allows her an unbiased stance on things, without pre-existing thoughts to trip her up, just as she prefers.

And from what she can see, Keiko brings her blade to school not because it is the  _school_  that she fears, but something  _outside_  of it.

(Because as stubborn as her friend is, Eri knows that if it truly had been something within the school itself that had frightened their sword-wielding friend, truly nothing would have stopped her from carrying it from class to class, somehow.

And Keiko  _hadn't_  – she'd only left it in her locker, to pick it up again on the way out of school. She carries the sword  _while outside._

Not inside. Only outside.)

Eri doesn't have enough evidence, not yet, and she will  _not_  be presenting a theory with only half of the supporting facts, thank you very much. But it's a start.

(It's a start to unraveling more about her friend, like she does with Satomi, sometimes, like she does with the other girls at Midori, and Eri is content to let Keiko lead and follow the thread where it goes.)

**XLVI.**

Some things just don't change in Namimori. That's what Sasagawa Kyoko has been taught to believe, with the town's predictable weather and predictable events and  _predictable people._

That's what she's _always_  believed in, along with her brother with his crazy love of boxing and the old certainty that  _yes, Hana, I know about the boys and I can't do anything about it, sorry._

So it makes it all that more surprising when Sawada Tsunayoshi, one of the boys in her year, starts being  _more_  than just the Dame-Tsuna that she's – that  _everyone's,_  really, if she thinks about it – believed he'd be.

Though, to be honest, it had started when Yamamoto Takeshi (one of the few boys that hadn't started flocking to her for… whatever reason, which Kyoko thinks she will be forever glad about) had befriended the brown-haired boy.

Hana might laugh at her for concerning herself with boys' problems, but Kyoko knows that there is something new, on the verge. It's the same feeling that she'd gotten right before onii-chan had started boxing, the same feeling that she gets when someone precious to her need something, right before they mention it.  _Woman's intuition,_  her mother had called it.

It is a feeling of  _change._

Whatever it is, it hasn't led her astray before. Kyoko isn't about to start believing it will now – no matter how odd it is.

_Faith is a belief in the unbelievable._

**XLVII.**

It takes a reminder from tou-chan, and a conversation when Keiko-nee is outside the house studying with her friends, before he truly  _understands._

And he's proud of his sister, of course he is, but Takeshi thinks that he can be excused a little bit of disbelief.

Because Keiko-nee is almost  _finished_  with her mastery of her swords style, and isn't that a  _really cool thing?_

Takeshi remembers the early days quite well, when their father had warned Keiko-nee against choosing that one specific style, when she had asked him about taking the  _Shigure Soen Ryu_ for her own. He'd never quite understood why she'd turned down the offer, when his sister is the elder and has a prior right to the style.

But he  _does_ know that turning down something like that takes guts, and it's one of the reasons that his nee-chan is  _the best._

This… isn't a traditional thing, Takeshi knows. And he doesn't think that his sister will need it anyway – or at least, he  _hopes_  she won't. But Takeshi isn't a little brother for nothing, and although nee-chan won't accept protection directly, this, at least, is something that she will indulge him with.

It had meant to be a private thing, at first. But when Tsuna-kun finds out what he's doing, the other boy had wanted to help, too.

After much thought (and a talk with his tou-chan about what having  _real_  friends means, which Takeshi comes out of chagrined), he decides Tsuna-kun helping can't hurt.

Because the more people involved in this who want to see his sister safe, the better, right?

**XLVIII.**

To be honest, she'd thought that this would have taken a longer time than it had. Keiko knows better than to underestimate Hibari Kyouya now, though. To his credit, he hadn't even taken half a year before she'd been forced to take his ambush-spars seriously.

She still hasn't been able to get him to drink that tea with her, though. It's a goal for strive for, she supposes.

Keiko lets herself sigh, this once, when she turns the street corner to find Hibari standing in her way, hands loosely holding his signature tonfa. She'd almost made it home, too – they're a scant few streets away from Takesushi.

"Again already, Hibari-san?" she staunchly does  _not_  complain, and draws her shinai from its sheath.

Her opponent doesn't respond other than a sharp revealing of teeth – the mark of a predator with a targeted prey – and leaping at her with tonfa in hand.

This time, it ends more favorably than a draw. A good thing too, since Keiko  _knows_  she's close to finishing her mastery of her sword style and the entire thing would have been a waste of time if she can't beat Hibari even once in just a spar.

**XLIX.**

"C-congrat-tulations, Y-yamamoto-san!"

Keiko sighs as Sawada-kun shuffles his feet nervously, a hand finding its way to the back of his head to rub at his hair awkwardly. It's long since time for her to do this, and Takeshi is giving her a sideways look as if he  _knows_  what she's going to do, but he can't because she's never told anyone this in the first place and this is an entirely spontaneous decision and why is she stalling anyway.

No time like the present to start something new. "Call me sempai, damnit. I can never tell if you're referring to tou-san or not if you keep saying 'Yamamoto-san.' And no. Not a  _word_  from you, otouto."

She leaves Sawada-kun sputtering and turns to Takeshi, who hands her something first instead of talking. It takes a moment before she accepts it, startled as she is.

"I'm sorry I can't do much else," Takeshi starts when she turns the package over in her hands, just a little bit rushed, "because tou-chan is getting you a real sword and everything and nothing can top  _that_. But I-I wanted something that would keep you safe, so this is what Tsuna-kun and I came up with."

Keiko swallows her questions and opens the small box.

…

…

It's a carved totem, wooden and small and threaded through with a cord long enough to hang around the neck. The mouth is parted slightly in a silent roar and the feet claw at empty air while the body coils itself into a spring, ready to attack.

It is, unmistakably, a rendition of a dragon – hand-carved wood or not.

"…did you make this?" As far as she can tell the time and effort that had been poured into it is staggering, evident in the detail of the robin's egg blue eyes – the only colored part of the totem – and the minute details of the scales and tail. "Because I'm wondering when you had the time – or did you skip out on studying when I wasn't looking?"

It's a valid accusation – her brother has shirked his books for less.

Said brother only laughs, slightly nervous as he shifts closer to Sawada –  _kouhai, he's her kouhai now and something like purpose slides into place in her heart next to otouto and tou-san_ – to her  _kouhai_. He rubs the back of his neck.

"Maa, maa, nee-chan. It's not _my_  fault that school hands out so much busywork! You said it yourself!"

He  _has,_ then, but she can't find it within herself to admonish him for it other than a glare.

Keiko huffs, but Takeshi's still smiling, the  _gaki_ , when she puts the necklace on and leaves it to hang over her shirt. It's a knowing sort of smile, and –

If she didn't know better, she'd have thought that Tsunayoshi had used a rudimentary version of the Hyper Intuition, because he's smiling Takeshi's smile, too.

**L.**

Four years later, Yamamoto Keiko is in Upper Secondary, seventeen-years-old and capable. She aids her father at the shop when she has time, tutors both her otouto and her kouhai every Friday, and continues to practice the _Tengoku no Ryuu,_  waiting, uselessly, for the day that she doesn't have to.

Four years later, Yamamoto Takeshi and Sawada Tsunayoshi are steadfast friends, even though Takeshi's baseball and Tsunayoshi's continuous lack of significant sports abilities cause others to wonder just how, exactly, they have remained so.

Four years later, long after her life has settled into a shape that she can see stretching out into the future, clear and bright,  _there's no guarantee that her world will be anything like the one in her head –_

A baby in an orange-banded fedora visits Namimori.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are - on the verge of canon. Let me know what you think.
> 
> The Tengoku no Ryuu (天国 の竜) is a completely fictional sword-style based on what I remember from my own [kumdo](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kumdo) training.
> 
> Traditionally, for protection people give [omamori](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omamori), or Japanese amulets, which have prayers written on them. Takeshi wanted to think outside of the box, and Tsuna just sort of... followed along.
> 
> In the beginning, **Seiryū** was intended to be a drabble series. However, now that we're at this crossroads, I do believe the chapters will cease to be in a "drabble" format and be more of one fluid chapter. That isn't to say that we won't be changing point-of-views mid-chapter. It just means that the scenes depicted will get longer.
> 
> Accordingly, _I - L_ has come to an end. With the new year I'll have a new numbering format for **Seiryū**.
> 
> Happy Holidays, and thank you for sticking around so far.


	6. 01: derailed plans left careening in our wake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Stage Right: Canon. Or what should be the start of it, anyway, except for what we tore down in the relentless march of time and characterization.

_If life is movement, and death is similar – no, not just similar, nigh_ identical, _for all the destruction and chaos that it seems to bring in such contrast to life – then –_

_Then…_

_…_

_…what is the world between the two; the realm between two extremes; neither life, nor death?_

_Does it even_ exist?

_…_

_…I'm… being silly again. Of course._

_Of course._

_…_

_(…the absence of space is still space. Sun is inspiring others. Lightning is drawing harm away from others, and Mist is drawing_ attention _away from others. Storm is destroying things for others, and in a sense, Cloud is_ creating _things for others. In light of all of these things, Sky is_ acceptance –  _of diversity, of radical action, of_ others. _They are all intertwined._

_…_

_…then what is Rain?_

_…_

_…_

_…Rain is –)_

_…_

**(- - -)**

Namimori… is a quiet town. Small. Peaceful. Certainly somewhere preferred by mindful parents to raise a child.

Reborn can see why Sawada Iemitsu had chosen Namimori as the place to raise his heir in, even though he had never  _returned home_  often enough to matter.

(It isn't as if the man had  _needed_  to, though, he will admit. There is the Hibari presence in Namimori that keeps most yakuza and mafia from entering, as well as CEDEF's own…  _observations_  of the town.)

He'd received intel for this, from Vongola's Young Lion before his plane had even touched down on Japanese soil. Mostly Iemitsu's agents' reports on his son's habits – normal enough, the hitman had supposed, for a boy of Sawada Tsunayoshi's age.

"Ah, he isn't home at the moment! It's a Monday, you see – he should… oh, he should be at his friend's house right about now, Yamamoto Takeshi, the sweet boy. Would you like me to tell Tsu-kun that you came by?"

… _had_  supposed.

"Please don't trouble yourself," Reborn says, and tips his hat to Sawada Nana. He can be polite, thank you very much, even though he cannot see  _why_  the idiot had taken her as his  _wife_. He doesn't voice any of his concerns, however, and he doesn't think he ever will.

( _It's not his problem_. He's only here to teach the Vongola Tenth, and  _nothing more, nothing less_.)

"Thank you, and have a good day. Ciaossu."

Reborn turns from the open door and takes his leave.

(He'll need to take a different approach for this candidate, he knows, even if the strategies that he'd used  _had_  been extremely effective on Dino Cavallone. Sawada Tsunayoshi isn't some heir who's grown up in the underbelly of the world for the majority of his life, already knowing what'll be expected of him.

The home-tutor approach won't work, if CEDEF's intel that he already  _has_  a private teacher is correct.

But that's alright. Reborn just needs to adjust his plan, is all.)

**(- - -)**

…

It… hadn't been as if he hadn't known Yamamoto Tsuyoshi lived in Namimori. Far from the fact – that little piece of information had been included in the brief that CEDEF had sent over.

But  _seeing in person_  is different from  _reading on paper._

"Tsuna-kun, eh?"

The sushi chef continues to slice raw fish, rapid movements of the kitchen knife thudding into the wooden board underneath. His eyes aren't focused on what he is doing; he doesn't even seem to be paying attention.

 _An intimidation technique?_ Reborn wonders, while Yamamoto continues: "I'm afraid that I'll have to ask why, exactly, you're asking after him."

They are the only two in the shop; Reborn hadn't wanted witnesses for this. Just in case the former  _Swallow Assassin_  might have an inclination for… violent reactions.

(Of course, he isn't counting the dog on one of the stools in the shop,  _staring_  at him with chocolate-brown eyes. He isn't intimidated by a  _dog,_ even if it  _is_  baring its teeth in a silent growl _._  He's a  _hitman,_  for god's sake.)

"You know who he is."

It's not a question, Reborn hadn't even  _phrased_  it as one, and yet dark eyes flash at him over the counter. The  _World's Strongest Hitman_  doesn't flinch. "Hard not to know, with that name of his."

And Reborn has to agree, because what, exactly, had Iemitsu been  _thinking_ , not even giving his family a  _false name_? If the idiot had been hoping, or god forbid,  _believing_  that the fact of "Sawada" being a last name that could be found all over Japan would be sufficient protection for his family, even with the Hibari and CEDEF presences, then Reborn  _will_  kick him in the head once he gets back to Italy.

Or he _could_  have Lal Mirch do it – it all depends on how vicious he's feeling when he gets around to it. "Then you know why I'm asking, Yamamoto Tsuyoshi."

Said Yamamoto Tsuyoshi finishes his slicing, puts down his knife to one side and sweeps the fish pieces off the cutting board with both hands afterwards. Those will go into a box for storage until dinner rush hour, if Reborn is reading him right. "I will admit, I haven't been keeping up with underworld news."

That… might actually explain a lot of things, but it still doesn't explain why Yamamoto is being defensive about his son's friend – if  _they're mere friends,_  a corner of his mind whispers, and Reborn tilts down the brim of his fedora before speaking. "The Ninth's other heirs died," he says bluntly, and hears the man across the counter shift. To reach for a weapon, probably the knife he had just put down, as a reflex.

"You can't tell me Young Lion was enough of an idiot to  _agree,_ " Yamamoto says.

Reborn snorts.

"When the Ninth asks, you answer."

There's a moment of silence between them, as well as an unspoken,  _"Or else."_  The assassin-on-vacation – because  _there is no such thing as "retirement" in the mafia_  – sighs.

"I am not his guardian; I don't speak for him."

It's the best that he's going to get, right now, and Reborn knows this. He tilts the rim of his fedora to the man, anyway, in a mirror image of what he'd given the brat's actual blood parent. "For starters, that's enough. Ciaossu."

Reborn hops down from his stool, shoves his hands into his pockets, and walks out the doors.

(The dog continues its silent growl until he passes the threshold.)

**(- - -)**

…Yamamoto Tsuyoshi hadn't been the hurdle he'd needed to jump, he realizes later, belatedly. It had been his  _children._

"Wow, a kid! Where're your parents, huh?" Yamamoto Takeshi says, cheerfulness in every line of his body, but his eyes are sharp and dark.  _Good senses, suspicious of unusual things._

Sawada Tsunayoshi, on the other hand, is standing behind his… friend? Chatting away to another boy about some piece of homework that had been assigned, it seems.

The Vongola heir-to-be has no resemblance  _at all_  to the character that his information given by CEDEF had painted.

…

…

… _when I get back, heads will_ roll _._

Reborn tilts the brim of his fedora up, and draws his best smirk to his lips. "I don't need parents; I'm a hitman," he states bluntly. There's no reason to not use the classics.

But Yamamoto Takeshi's eyes sharpen further, and suddenly Reborn feels as if he had read this situation…  _incorrectly._

"Haha, is that so?" Yamamoto Takeshi still has his smile. Reborn struggles to not let his fall from his own lips, as he feels his defenses slam down into an iron-clad wall and as he steels his body-language into something non-readable.

(He can read minds, through body language. Who is to say that others – that someone like  _Yamamoto Takeshi,_  the son of the  _Swallow Assassin_  – will not be able to as well?)

"That's pretty cool, but Tsuna and I  _do_  need to get going." And –  _there it is._  The suspicious gleam, the one that screams  _I know you are hiding something._

If he had been a lesser man, Reborn would have caught his breath. But he is not, and so he doesn't, and so he watches the two young boys walk away.

…

…

…the  _World's Greatest Hitman_  clicks his tongue in annoyance, once, before turning on his heel and walking away.

He has research to do, and bodies to decapitate.

**(- - -)**

"Did you recognize that kid?"

"No, and he was  _strange._  Like – a child, but not really a child."

"Well, the suit kinda gave that away."

"Haha, I guess it did, didn't it? …it was really, weird, though."

"Weird? What do you mean?"

"…I mean, when I asked him where his parents were, he said the weirdest thing."

"Takeshi, when you're worried about something, it's usually worth worrying over. Spit it out."

"…"

" _Takeshi._ "

"…he said he was a hitman."

"…"

"Yeah, that was my first reaction, too. I don't think he noticed, though."

"…well, he's gone now, hopefully never to return. Don't think about it too much."

"…yeah."

**(- - -)**

Keiko first hears about the Sun Arcobaleno from her tou-san and otouto's off-hand comments about the strangest person who they'd met today, he was wearing a suit and a fedora, but he was a  _baby,_  and isn't that the weirdest thing, Keiko?

…

…

…just because it has been  _years_  since the last…  _reminder_ , does not mean that she has forgotten the story in her head.

(Yes, some parts have faded, but – enough has remained, for her to  _know._ )

…

…

… _it… had to happen some time._

Though she  _knows_  that both Takeshi and her kouhai will come out  _stronger_  for it, will have  _done things_  and  _made things_  out of themselves that people four years, five years ago would have never dreamed of –

…

It… is hard to let them go, to their fate.

(It is hard to resign herself to pain, and hardship, and death plaguing her precious peoples' lives.)

…

…

Hard enough, to justify  _resisting._

After all, not  _everything_  of the  _story in her head_  is true, at the moment.

(Her very existence is proof of that.)

(The  _story in her head_  need not be the  _truth._

 _I will not_ accept it _as the truth._ )

**(- - -)**

_Ring. Ring._

_Click._

"Hello, you've called the Namimori Branch of the Vongola Construction Company, how can I –"

"Get Borage on the line."

"I'm sorry, Director Borage is not available at the moment –"

"This is Reborn, and that  _wasn't a request._ "

"…yes. I understand. We'll connect you right away, please wait for just a moment."

_Ring. Ring._

_Click._

"What in hell, Reborn? We gave you the intel, what's wrong now –"

"You gave me  _faulty intel,_  Borage.  _Faulty. Intel._ I don't tolerate anything less than perfect, you know that. …or should I _remind_  you?"

"…no. You don't need to. I'll get a more thorough investigation and analysis done on the subject."

"You'd better."

_Click._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...well. Yes. That just happened. Please leave a review on what you thought about it.
> 
> A bit short, but the chapter naturally ended itself here. And I think a shorter chapter is the best way to ease myself back into an acceptable writing schedule, haha.
> 
> We have now officially entered canon. Accordingly, there is now a new numbering system. With chapter titles! *spins chair*
> 
> Side note: to keep up with the CEDEF naming theme, Borage is the common term for [_Borago officinalis_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borage), a culinary herb.


	7. 02: in motion and in stillness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reborn is what he is: a Mafia hitman, a home tutor, an Arcobaleno. Breaking someone's expectations is magnitudes more difficult than just establishing them.

Bright sun light filtering through the window; feet propped up on the mattress of his bed, a book in his lap.

This is the weekend; Takeshi is at his own home at Takesushi, and Tsuna is at his.

(As much of best friends they are – as much of  _brothers_  they are,  _some_  argue, with knowing smiles on their faces and a contented set to their shoulders – they do, occasionally, need their own space.

That is what the weekends are for.)

…

That means, however, that when the baby with the fedora hat visits him at home, Tsuna is  _alone._

"Oh, Tsuna-kun is just upstairs! Tsu-kun! You have a visitor!"

(His kaa-chan  _doesn't count_.)

Tsuna doesn't  _want_  to go downstairs.

But if there is  _one thing_  that his time with the Yamamoto family has taught him, it is to never,  _ever_  show fear to his adversaries.

He puts down his book, stands, pushes back his shoulders, arms himself with a polite smile, and descends the staircase.

…

…dark eyes.  _Sharp_ eyes, and black, not like Takeshi's or Tsuyoshi-san's (and certainly not Senpai's) bronze or dark brown or sharp, sharp blue.

(Senpai's eyes are sharp in analyzation. This…  _stranger's_ is sharp like jagged glass, so sharp that Tsuna could cut himself on it without even  _trying_.)

This stranger's eyes are a light-absorbing black.

"Ciaossu!"

…

…

…

… _he is not what he seems to be._

_Takeshi was right._

Sawada Tsunayoshi smiles back, creases his eyes into a polite, happy-to-help expression. His clenched hands go behind his back. "Konichiwa! You asked for me?"

There is a moment of silence –  _surprised? it's hard to tell with this guy_  – before the acclaimed "hitman" tilts up the brim of his fedora with a single finger and…  _smirks._  "I did. Sawada Tsunayoshi, your father sent me."

 _He's not pulling any punches,_  is Tsuna's first thought, but then –

 _My_ father?

**(- - -)**

"No. Absolutely not."

"You have a duty to the Family –"

"Which, for one, I have never even  _heard of_  before, by the way, and for another,  _no, I don't._  I don't have a so-called  _'duty'_  to a group of criminals, let alone one that  _my own father_   _abandoned his own family for._ "

"Did you ever think that whatever made your father leave you and your kaa-san at home is  _worth_  doing said leaving for?"

"No."

"…"

" _Nothing_  is worth abandoning your family for. Even  _I_  know that. And, also? I am not a pushover, nor  _will I ever be one._  How am I supposed to trust a random stranger's word that I'm supposed to be a  _Head_  of a  _Mafia Family,_  anyway? For all I know you could be a saboteur from a rival Family."

"…"

"So, basically?  _No._  Find yourself a new 'heir,' and  _get out of my house_."

**(- - -)**

The stranger does, in fact, leave his house. And for that, Tsuna is both surprised and fiercely glad. Even  _if_  he's still shaking, his hands still trembling.

But his presence lingers like a malevolent spirit, and it grates against Tsuna's skin and sends shivers up his spine and makes him clench his teeth, but this is his decision, and he  _will not change it_  – not even when under pressure.

(He is far from the  _Dame-Tsuna_  of  _Primary_.)

Instead, Tsuna runs up the stairs and grabs his overnight bag, throwing his homework in at the last second; he runs down the stairs for good measure, shouting both an apology and a goodbye over his shoulder to his kaa-san, before darting out the door.

Weekend or not, Takeshi-kun and his family won't mind a sudden sleepover, he knows.

(He's done enough of them over the years, on the nights when he  _just couldn't stand_  his kaa-san, as well-meaning as she is, or the small, oppressive house, empty with ghosts and a presence that  _should be there_  but  _isn't._ )

**(- - -)**

_Ring. Ring._

_Click._

"Who the fuck is this?"

"You'd do better than to take that tone with me, Gokudera Hayato."

"…shit. Sorry. But why're you calling a wash-out like me for?"

"If you can manage to kill the Vongola heir, you'll take his place."

"…"

"I'm not kidding. You have a week to collect. You won't ever get this chance again."

"…I'm sorry, I think I just heard you say that if I killed the  _Vongola heir,_  the  _most politically valuable person in the underworld,_  I'd take his place."

"Don't tell me you've gone deaf as well as jobless, Smoking Bomb."

"…"

"Vongola won't interfere. That I promise."

"…fine. I'll be there in two days."

_Click._

Reborn stares at his Leon-phone for a moment. Then he lets his partner turn back into a chameleon, tucks him onto the brim of his fedora, and exits the safe-house swept clear of bugs.

His earlier conversation had… gone in a rather  _unfortunate_  direction.

Sawada Tsunayoshi is a unique case. It only fits that extreme circumstances require extreme methods.

_This is the first move._

_How will you react, Sawada Tsunayoshi?_

**(- - -)**

The sunlight is bright, and piercing. The wind is breezy, but not enough to throw the curve of a ball. The air is really,  _really_ clear and crisp, middle of summer or no. All-in-all, it's the perfect day for some baseball. He could do it, too – just take his bat and his sports bag and grab Tsuna by the wrist and  _escape_  –

Something whaps Takeshi upside the head, leaving behind a ringing skull. Automatically, his hand rises to the spot to try and massage away the pain. He scowls. "What'd you do that for, aneki?"

Keiko-nee raises a single dark eyebrow at him. She doesn't even need to say  _anything – Do your work, little brother._

Beside her, Tsuna laughs, only covering up his mouth at the last minute in an attempt to muffle it and be socially polite. It doesn't work.

Takeshi turns his scowl at his best friend. "Not you too," he groans. "This stupid homework isn't even due until  _Tuesday,_  and today is  _Sunday. Two. Whole. Days_  before it's due. Why waste the time  _now_?"

It's an age-old argument, but Tsuna falls for it anyway. "If you do it now, you can play baseball until the sun goes down without staying up all night to finish it on Monday."

"But  _baseball,_ " Takeshi not-whines, and this is stupid and they do this every time they get  _anything_  that's not due immediately the next day, but Tsuna laughs out-loud this time, no restrictions, and even Keiko-nee looks vaguely amused – she's got that twitch at the corner of her mouth that refuses to turn into a full-blown smile.

She taps at the piece of paper in front of him instead. "Just this and that reading assignment to do," she encourages. Or tries to, anyway. It sounds more like  _discouragement_  to Takeshi.

He slumps into his seat. "But that'll take  _forever._ "

Tsuna continues to laugh and shake his head, and Keiko-nee goes on ruthlessly, "Then you'll do it forever, until you're done."

"But after that, we'll finish," she compromises after a moment filled with despair, and  _that_  makes Takeshi jolt up in his chair and flail for his pencil.

Tsuna doesn't stop laughing until Keiko-nee gives him his  _own_  whap upside the head and a point at homework.

(Even though there is  _still_ the tenseness around his shoulders and Takeshi  _hates that,_  but he doesn't comment.

Tsuna had told him, yesterday, in a darkened room where they both had been staring up at the ceiling, sleep a fickle thing. Keiko-nee had been told this morning, because they both know  _she_  knows enough, to understand. Her sword and her scars that hadn't been gained from sparring are proof enough.

Tou-chan will come later, but Takeshi knows he would agree with Tsuna's decision, too, like he and aneki does, because  _Tsuna deserves_   _better than a forced life as a Mafia Boss_.)

They  _do_  finish at a decent time, though, and go play baseball at the park, so Takeshi stops complaining about the homework.

…

…

…to his  _aneki_ , anyway.

**(- - -)**

_Reborn of the Mafia, I hope to kami-sama you're prepared._

_Because if not – well, no one ever said that we would go_ easy _on you._

**(- - -)**

…

…

…the itch is there.

Well, it's fairly inaccurate to call it an itch, since it's not  _actually_  an itch, but that's the closest word that Keiko has for it – an itch at the back of her neck, between her shoulders, as if someone is looking at her through a sniper's scope.

The itch is  _there_ , like it had been in the period of time in which her family had been targeted by people from her tou-san's past. The itch of someone  _watching,_  and observing, and following her movements. She's been under surveillance long enough to know what it feels like.

(Even  _if_  they are, supposedly, from the  _World's Greatest Hitman._  Who probably didn't think her  _too_  dangerous, compared to him.

 _That is to his disadvantage,_  Yamamoto Keiko thinks, tilting her head up to stare up into the blue, blue sky.)

The itch is there whenever she enters or exits Takesushi.

… _only_  around Takesushi. It has not followed her into town.

…

…

… _yet._

She is alone on the street – but not entirely  _alone._  Satomi and Eri might not be at her side, today, and walking back home with her, but there are still people visiting the various shops, generally going on with their normal, sane,  _safe_  lives.

(And the person in black slacks and black jacket and large, dark sunglasses, casually asking about the Yamamoto-run Takesushi, but she has no intention of spooking them.

 _Better the enemy that you know than one that you do not._ )

…the calm is shattered, of course, by the arrival of a wind-swept boy, contained violence bleeding into the air in his wake. Most people fairly run away from the impending meeting, all-too-aware of what will likely happen next. The boy's own second-in-command hovers at the fringes, anxiety in every line of his body, as well as a readiness to initiate an evacuation.

Keiko sighs and deliberately  _does not_  rest a hand on the shinai at her hip.

"It's not Friday yet," she says, and watches Hibari Kyouya's lips twitch down in annoyance.

He isn't here for a spar, then.

_But then, why…?_

"There has been a baby wandering by himself in Namimori," he says, after a glare and a moment. The  _A strong one_ goes unspoken, as well as  _He is a carnivore, yet one in the body of an_ herbivore _._

Hibari Kyouya not-asks as Keiko sighs. "Hanging around the middle school, I'm guessing?"

She doesn't even need to know the self-appointed  _Disciplinary Committee's Leader's_  personality to know the answer – the annoyance, the questions, the  _What is this anomaly_  fairly hangs off his shoulders, sets a grudgingly curious air about him.

And since Keiko tends to know about random strangers in Namimori more often than not, she is the go-to for speculations and recommendations.

(Recommendations, because  _Hibari Kyouya_  does not  _listen_  to  _anyone_ , but for all that he appears a wild, feral child, he  _will_  take  _recommendations_  from another carnivore.

It's just to Keiko's horrendous luck that he'd decided that  _she_  is one.)

"Leave him alone for now. Hopefully, he won't cause too much trouble."

"…hn." Sharply turning, he leaves as abruptly as he had arrived, collecting Kusakabe along with him.

"Friday, Yamamoto Keiko," is the parting shot over his shoulder.  _He'd better not. Otherwise, I will bite him to death_.

Then, only the sense of barely-deflected violence in the air is left.

(With those that understand – those who have taught themselves his language, basically – Hibari Kyouya is, unsurprisingly, not that much of a talker.)

…

…

…Keiko blinks, sighs, and continues back down the sidewalk slowly refilling with people as the danger passes.

(The man with the sunglasses lingers a few moments longer, collecting rumors and hear-say, before leaving.)

**(- - -)**

There is a new boy in class.

"Everyone, this is Gokudera Hayato, a transfer student from Italy. Please make him feel welcome!"

As the girls swoon over an implied coolness of the transfer's gangster attitude, and as the boys lean back in wariness, Tsuna glances over to Takeshi. He himself is… worried, about this new student, and he wants to see his best friend's reaction before he decides anything absolutely –

…

…

… _oh._

Tsuna blinks, resettling himself with this new fact. Then he sighs, rubs a hand over his face, and leans back into his chair himself.

Takeshi is _frowning._

_That guy is… trouble._

"We won't go anywhere near him," he murmurs to Takeshi under-breath, under the cover of classroom chatter, and watches the other boy nod in agreement without taking his eyes off of Gokudera Hayato.

Which is a good thing, in Tsuna's mind, because in the next moment Gokudera has pushed his way to the back of the classroom, kicked out a chair, and sat on it.  _While_  still chewing on his cigarette.

 _Those things aren't allowed in school,_  Tsuna thinks, but doesn't dare voice it out loud. Beside him at the front of the classroom, Takeshi doesn't say a word.

…

…

…after a moment of stunned silence, the class turns back to the lesson.

(Takeshi doesn't stop frowning until they reach Takesushi and Gokudera Hayato is only a memory.)

**(- - -)**

True to his word, Tsuna makes sure they stay away from the hazardous presence of the Italian transfer student. But it's not enough.

The peace only lasts a week.

…

…

… _everyone has a boiling point._

**(- - -)**

"Alright, that's it!"

"Huh?" Tsuna turns around, distracted by the voice coming from behind. Beside him, Takeshi stops also, one hand on a backpack strap, the other holding his baseball things. They're supposed to be going to baseball practice today, Takeshi to play, Tsuna to cheer him on, and they'd almost made it too – they can see the field, in the distance.

But Gokudera Hayato glares at them both, a cigarette clenched between his teeth. His hands are shoved into his pockets; there isn't a backpack in sight. "I've been watching you, y'know," he starts. "It's a waste of time to evaluate someone like  _you_  any further."

He doesn't look at Takeshi, as if he's dismissed him from the world entirely.

His best friend's lips are pulled down, and his eyes are hard.

"What do you mean?" Tsuna asks, worried but still willing to listen.  _What evaluation?_

Gokudera doesn't even acknowledge his question _. "Die,"_  he growls, and pulls out two cylindrical objects from his pockets, and –

…

…

…

… _are those sticks of_  dynamite?!

Tsuna panics and – he isn't  _too proud_  to admit this – screams.  _"What are you doing with those?!"_

Takeshi handles the sudden explosives better than he does, which he is very,  _very_  glad for, since he doesn't think he can do anything right now. His best friend drops his backpack, slings around his sports bag, reaching for the baseball bat inside it but  _it'll be too late_  –

_Bang._

…

…

…

" _You?!"_

( _I seem to be shouting a lot today,_  a distant part of his mind thinks, but the larger portion of his brain is thinking,  _Why him?_

Then:  _Of course._ )

**(- - -)**

"You came earlier than I expected, Gokudera Hayato."

As if the  _World's Greatest Hitman_  hadn't known he'd been in town already. The lie-pleasantry grates on his nerves, but Hayato pushes that feeling down. He has a job to do, right now.

"Cut the crap, Reborn," he says, knowing he's treading a dangerous line and _there_  is the sharp, warning glint to the hitman's eye that screams  _Watch your tongue,_  but Hayato presses on. This is  _important._  "The deal is still on, right?"

"What deal?" the Vongola heir-to-be says, and Hayato wants to throttle him for being so  _stupid_  and  _unworthy_  of the title, but the black-haired boy next to him has a baseball bat out and he'd rather not get too close with the school's star baseball player when he has his weapon in his hands, thank you. Hayato is a mid-to-long-range fighter for a  _reason._

 _And_  he's still waiting for Reborn's answer.

"That's right." The fedora brim is lowered over the not-baby's eyes, concealing anything that might have been read. Hayato turns back to his target, and lets the next words wash over him.  _I can do this._

"You didn't accept the job, Sawada Tsunayoshi, so I let Gokudera Hayato over here try. If he kills you, he'll take your place as Vongola Decimo."

…

…the fact that Sawada Tsunayoshi has  _refused the title_  is news to him, but it only serves to fuel Hayato's ire.

" _What?!_ "

Sawada himself will be easy to kill – it's just that with that Yamamoto's baseball bat and the easy way he holds it in a combat position, not a baseball-game one, he doesn't want to press his luck going in close-range with only his dynamites, no matter how  _satisfying_  the results would be.

(... _or would they?_ )

Hayato shoves the voice of conscience to the back of his mind. ( _Of course it would be._ )

( _Don't delude yourself. You know Reborn would never give you the title. And the Vongola would kill you themselves for killing their only remaining heir, not give you control over_ the most dangerous Mafia Family in the world _. You're just being_ naïve  _if you believe_ that.

 _So the question is,_ Why did you come here anyway,  _knowing_  that?)

…

…

…Hayato doesn't have an answer, so he turns to his bombs instead. Steady, reliable things, they haven't failed him yet.

(Nor have they made him second-guess himself, unlike his conscience.)

A moment, a strike of the lighter, and his mouth is full of burning cigarettes. He breathes in air filled with ash and smoke-death, preparing himself.

Another moment, and he has lighted dynamites in his hands.

(The Yamamoto boy's eyes haven't changed at all, and his feet shift slightly on the ground. The bags have long-since been abandoned, far out enough to not be a tripping hazard.

_Experienced. But he's not Mafia._

He has… not-quite-regret at targeting Yamamoto, too, but Hayato has pulled out his weapons and he  _still_  hasn't retreated. That's good enough as consent, for him. Even for the son of the  _Swallow Assassin._

 _The Mafia does not give second chances._ )

"It's said that Gokudera Hayato is a human explosive device that conceals dynamites all over his body. He's also known as Smoking Bomb Hayato," Reborn says from the sidelines where he is sitting. From the corner of his eye, Hayato can see that the brim of the fedora is still concealing his eyes.

A name-drop.  _Smoking Bomb Hayato_ tends to describe the danger he presents pretty well, after all. It's a fitting warning.

" _Die,"_  Hayato says, and lets his dynamites fly.

**(- - -)**

The original plan had been to shoot Sawada Tsunayoshi with the Dying Will Bullet to  _get things done_  and activate his Dying Will Mode, up to  _and_  including fighting off threats to his life.

With the inclusion of the Yamamoto family, however, that isn't an option anymore, because one: they would never let him, not without spillage of blood involved (and as good as he is, Reborn isn't stupid enough to think that the  _Yamamotos'_ blood would be the only one spilled – no,  _Sawada's_  would be too, somehow, from what he can read of the boy, and Vongola didn't pay him for  _that_ ); and two, because the bullet itself – a method of _forcing_  the target into Dying Will Mode – won't be needed.

Reborn has the proof right here, in front of him.

Most would run, when confronted with someone intent to kill. Or someone with explosives. Reborn had even expected  _Sawada Tsunayoshi_  to run,  _as well as_  his friend Yamamoto Takeshi.  _That_ is the conclusion that he's been led to, from CEDEF's revised Intel and his own observations – that they would be quick-thinking enough to avoid a confrontation entirely.

 _A backbone, but easily intimidated,_  had been his final analysis.

…

…

…Yamamoto had used his baseball skills to hit what dynamites away from them that he could, and Sawada had hurried over and  _pinched the dynamite fuses of the closer ones out._  Even  _while panicked._

…

…

…

Actually, that panic might have been  _positively contributing_  to Sawada's ability to defuse bombs, the rush of adrenaline giving him speed.  _Interesting._

"What is this?!  _Double Bomb!_ "

…

…

…

" _Triple Bomb!"_

_This should not be possible._

And it  _is_  true – there are dynamites that both Sawada and Yamamoto miss, and  _those_  blow up and leave craters in the ground. But there aren't as many of them as he'd expected.

…

…

…Reborn will admit, he is  _grudgingly_ impressed. Grudgingly.

Then Smoking Bomb gets ambitious, and in his haste, drops his dynamites.

Reborn doesn't need his years of reading people to understand the look on the Italian's face –  _This is the end of me._

(How many times had he himself thought that, before he'd gone and become the  _World's Greatest?_

…

…that had been random. Reborn shoves the thought away and concentrates instead.)

…

…

… _Boom._

**(- - -)**

At the moment that Gokudera's face turns into despair, and fleetingly, grim acceptance, Tsuna comes to three conclusions.

One: he can't defuse that many sticks of dynamite. He just  _can't_. It's not  _physically possible_  for him.

Two: he's close enough to tackle the transfer student.

Three: …Takeshi's going to kill him for this.

All of these thoughts are the prelude, though, to Tsuna's body moving, rushing,  _Please, kami-sama, let me get there in time_  – "Look out!"

_Boom. Boom boom boom._

… _.boom._

…

…

…there is dust in the air, and something uncomfortable beneath Tsuna, but that hadn't been as large of an explosion as he thinks it  _should_  have been.

Then he notices Takeshi, baseball bat over shoulder, huffing, and the smoke-ash in his hair, and the strain on his face.

_Oh. Takeshi must have hit most of them away._

…

….

….Tsuna has the  _best best friend_  in the  _entire world._

**(- - -)**

There is blood pounding in his ears, and it feels like his heart is still in his throat, but Takeshi manages a laugh.

 _I did it._ I was fast enough.

 _Thank_ kami-sama _for all that speed training._

"You alright?" he calls over to Tsuna. The brunet is behind him, coughing in the smoke and kneeling above the transfer student. He'll have bruises later. They all will.

Takeshi spares a glare to the not-baby who is staring at them all with his dark-void eyes, but hurries over to his friend's side instead.

Transferring over his glare to the both of them makes him feel  _marginally_  better.

" _What were you thinking?!"_  Takeshi asks Tsuna. He's practically shouting. The baseball bat he drops to his side and, with both hands, he shakes his best friend's shoulders, gently. He doesn't want to give him more bruises, but  _kami-sama,_ he wants to. The other boy gives him a sheepish smile. "You could have  _died!_ "

"But I didn't." And  _there_  is the satisfied,  _happy_  smile one Tsuna's face, and normally that would mean Takeshi smiles back, too, but in the wake of this wreckage and ash and smoke Takeshi doesn't have the strength for that.

Instead, he musters up his glare again and spits out the most dangerous threat he can think of – "I'm telling Keiko-nee about this, you know. Have fun defending your death-stunt from  _her._ "

Turning away from his now-paling friend, Takeshi glares at the Italian transfer instead. It looks as if the silver-haired boy is still in shock, from the adrenaline-crash or what just happened, he can't tell, but Takeshi  _doesn't care_.

This guy is the person who  _tried to kill Tsuna._

But –

"I was wrong," he says quietly, and  _that_ is so unexpected Takeshi has to blink and waste a moment readjusting, and it seems as if the Italian takes that as permission to continue, because he does. "I was  _wrong,_  and I'm sorry for that."

Gokudera Hayato laughs, self-deprecatingly. "I don't think I ever wanted to be Vongola Decimo." The words are thoughtful, and it's as if he's  _just_ found self-enlightenment.

Takeshi doesn't say a word. Anything that he might have said has died on the tip of his tongue, unsaid.

(He'd competed. He'd  _won._  0 v 1, point to Tsuna-and-Takeshi. If this had been any other fight, they would have been long-gone by now.

But they  _aren't,_  and Takeshi realizes that Tsuna is staring at the transfer student, too, as if he's trying to puzzle out something.)

"If you decide to become Vongola Decimo after all, I'll be your subordinate, if you'll have me," Gokudera Hayato says, and kowtows to Tsuna.

**(- - -)**

What –

Why is he –

Did he just –

( _Yes, he did._ )

(But  _why?_ )

( _Does it matter_ why?  _He just pledged to be your_ subordinate  _in the_ Mafia.)

(Yes, it does! It  _does_  matter! And I never said I'll be the Vongola Decimo in the first place – I even  _specifically refused!_ )

( _It doesn't matter. You've seen just how far this 'Reborn' will go. If you refuse, who knows how many more psychopaths he'll bring in to cause damage to the school and_ kill everyone?)

(…)

( _Takeshi. Kyoko-chan. Hana-chan. Saito-kun and Okuda-kun, from Takeshi's baseball team. Kumagai-kun, who explains science to you at school when Takeshi can't. The countless others that make up Namimori Middle. They'll_ all  _be in danger, and it'll be_ all. Your. Fault.)

(…I can't know that.)

( _But the potential will always be there_.)

(…fine. Fine. I'm already going to get chewed out by Senpai, what's one more piece of stupidity on my blacklist?)

Tsuna looks over to Takeshi. His best friend – four years now, actually, arguably five years, but that doesn't matter, what matters is that Takeshi is his  _best friend_  – looks as if he knows what Tsuna has just decided.

It's not the first time that Takeshi his shown his ability to understand what Tsuna is thinking.

(After four years, some people might have drifted away. Not Tsuna and Takeshi.

It also helps that the Yamamoto family doesn't mind his near-constant presence in their home.)

Tsuna takes a deep breath, and lets it out.

And faces Gokudera Hayato, who still has his face pressed into the ground.

**(- - -)**

"…so let me get this straight.  _This_  silver-haired idiot decided to attack you on the way to baseball practice, and tried to kill you for the title of Vongola Decimo,  _which you'd already rejected_. Then, after saving his life from  _his own stupidity,_  he pledged his life to you as a subordinate. And you did all of this while stupidly risking  _your own life. With explosives._  Oh, and don't forget the fact that  _you agreed to be the heir of a Mafia Family,_ and made  _Takeshi_  your Right Hand Man, and the guy  _who tried to kill you_  as your Left _._ "

"Ahaha… Well, when you put it that way, senpai…"

"…"

"…just try not to cause so much collateral damage next time. Kyouya's pissed."

"…"

"Don't make that face; I've got a handle on it. And an extra spar or two doesn't hurt me. But –"

_Whap._

"Juudaime!"

"No, it's fine, Gokudera, I really did deserve that. Sorry, senpai. We'll do better next time."

"Maa, maa, aneki, we  _did_  manage to stay alive, though. That has to count for something, right?"

"Remember those words when you pick a fight with Mafioso again, kouhai, and we're good. But  _you_ , otouto –"

_Whap._

"No. It doesn't. Stop trying to get yourself killed."

"…yes, aneki."

"And  _you._  Gokudera Hayato. If you ever do  _anything_ that can be even  _mistaken_  as  _threatening_  towards either my idiot kouhai  _or_ my idiot brother,  _no one will ever find your body_."

"…I understand, Yamamoto-san."

"Hm. Now shoo, I have  _actual work_  to do. Go get yourselves cleaned up, and  _try_  not to get yourselves killed with this Mafia business."

"Yes, senpai. C'mon, guys, let's get going before she –  _sets Jirou on us, we're going, we're going, senpai! Down, Jirou! Eeeek!_ "

**(- - -)**

Three boys hurry out of Takesushi, bursting out of the doors, a dog on their heels. It stops dutifully at the door, barks threateningly a few times, and turns to go back inside. The door closes behind it.

The  _World's Greatest Hitman_  tilts the brim of his fedora down, and leaves.

(There is a camera where he had been standing.)

(An hour later, it will be hunted down and removed.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey. Early chapter. That's new.
> 
> Anyway, a question for you all again: did Gokudera's appearance surprise you? Did the way that Takeshi and Tsuna handle the dynamites?
> 
> Also, kudos to the people who are picking up on the hints I've been dropping! It's nice to know that there are people that notice :3
> 
> For those of you that are keeping an eye on it, Someday We'll Leave the Light On is scheduled to be updated next.
> 
> And yes, I do have both a playlist for this fic and a tumblr. The tumblr is, again, at [lanmerr.tumblr.com](http://lanmerr.tumblr.com/). The playlist link will be there under the "seiryu" tag. Enjoy!


	8. 03: like dominoes, only messier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a celebrity death match: the World's Greatest Hitman Reborn vs. Yamamoto Keiko. Namimori is not responsible for personal or collateral damage, so please, don't try to file any lawsuits. Our lawyers are better than yours.

This is… much harder than it would have been, than if Reborn had simply been one Sawada Tsunayoshi's home tutor.

He had  _known_  that the circumstances will be different, he had  _known_  that he couldn't train the Vongola's Decimo as he had the Cavallone's.

Still, all of that does not prepare him for…  _negotiation,_  with the Yamamoto family.

"Well, you can't be the school tutor, because _I_ have that position already," Yamamoto Keiko says. She is leaning against Takesushi's sushi bar counter, hands tucked into pants pockets in a show of nonchalance. Her eyes are sharp. Yamamoto Tsuyoshi is in a room, further away – still present enough, but giving them privacy.  _Intentional?_  "And Tsuna doesn't need another."

That god-damned dog is staring at him again. Reborn grits his teeth and flicks the brim of his fedora to push it up. His own shoulders are relaxed, Leon on his hat,  _See, I'm not being a threat. I'm just here to negotiate and_ do my damn job. He's not fooling her, though. "That may be true; however, he  _does_  still need a  _Mafia_  tutor."

Blue eyes narrow in contemplation. "You want to teach him Mafia behavior." It's not a question.

"Releasing him into the underworld without a speck of training – or anything that  _you_  could give him – would be suicide."

 _Appeal to her protectiveness of her so-called_ kouhai _. Logic-trap her into a corner, so that she has no choice but to agree or lose face. Verbal sparring at its finest; hook, line, sinker._

Such a definite statement from an experienced source – the  _World's Greatest Hitman_  – has the girl tilting her head. She's still looking at him through narrowed eyes. Reborn  _knows_  he's not giving anything away, but suddenly, the girl hums, as if suddenly enlightened and understanding.

He leaves not long after, escorted by that dog –  _Akita Inu,_  is his information,  _adopted years ago from the streets_  – who stops again at the door, and watches him out.

Reborn lingers outside the doors for a few minutes as a…  _reminder_ –  _I still have power, here. Do not forget that. –_  and finally, leaves.

(This time, his surveillance camera is stuck onto a tree branch, hidden behind enough leaves to be invisible to the naked eye.)

**( - - - )**

Gokudera Hayato… makes for an interesting addition to their day.

For the first week, the boy follows them around like a stray animal would – a few paces behind, eyes flickering left, right, front, behind, in all of the corners and all of the blind spots. Always watching for attacks, retaliation – rejection.

(A part of Tsuna's heart goes out to him, but a glare from Takeshi and he knows better than to do anything.

…

…

… _yet._ )

In various classrooms, Gokudera always takes the seat behind Tsuna, as if attempting to watch his back from the other students. For all that he stares at it, the boy doesn't take the desk to the left.

(Not yet. But one day, Tsuna is going to  _make_  him sit next to him, like a  _proper_  classmate-friend.

He resolutely does _not_  think of the kami-sama-forsaken Mafia.)

Lunchtime is better – there being no true lunch room, the students of the same grade sit together, often at tables made of four desks, or larger. Here, Gokudera manages to sit near Tsuna and Takeshi; but he is always,  _always_  subdued. Takeshi's suspicious glances his way don't help.

It's only when Hibari-san is before them, calmly –  _too calmly_  – explaining that  _Yes, I know about the fight, herbivores, and the next time that you damage school property I will bite you all to death_  – that Tsuna realizes:

Gokudera is silent from nervous tension.

(At not wanting to screw up and lose whatever he has now, no matter how meager it is compared to what Tsuna  _truly_  wants to offer – at not wanting to  _fail._

…

…

…no, it's not that. That's part of it, but that's not  _it._ )

"Aneki," Takeshi murmurs, "took care of it." He's referring to Hibari-san's willingness to let this transgression go, but –

Suddenly –

Tsuna  _understands_.

…

…

… _senpai, you might have scared him off a little_ too _well._

Oh,  _kami-sama._

**( - - - )**

After school is… better. But still not ideal.

Even with his agreement to be the  _Vongola Decimo,_  Tsuna still tends to study with Takeshi. But during the weekdays, Takesushi usually has customers in the afternoon, being a popular restaurant in Namimori and all.

…

…

…at least kaa-san doesn't seem to mind Gokudera's addition to the study group.

"Go ahead, Tsuna's bedroom is upstairs, down the hall. He can show you! Ah, why don't I make some snacks that you can eat while you study? Gokudera-kun, what would you like?" His kaa-san busies herself in the kitchen, opening pantry doors, placing down various ingredients for baking.

Gokudera seems overwhelmed – … _I wonder why?_  – and Tsuna drags him upstairs to safety as Takeshi laughs and distracts his kaa-san.

"Don't mind her," he tosses over his shoulder while opening the door to his bedroom. It's relatively neat, and sparse, thanks to the relative lack of use; there should be enough room on the floor for all of them to comfortably sit and study. They don't need to worry about the floor being cold, after all, not in the summer. "Kaa-san just loves having visitors over. She won't bother us up here, though."

Gokudera nods, distractedly, and Tsuna grins and leaves him to explore his room while he goes to the hallway closet to drag out the low desk that he and Takeshi uses while over at Tsuna's own house.

**( - - - )**

It's not until that the not-baby Reborn opens the door faux-casually with his hands in his pockets and  _smirking_  that Tsuna remembers:

_Oh. Right. I agreed to be the Vongola Decimo._

… _what in the world was I_ thinking?

"Ciaossu," the hitman says, and directs his smirk towards Tsuna. "I  _do_ hope that you haven't forgotten your agreement already."

His voice is pleasant enough, but the smugness and anticipation fairly  _drips_  off of his voice, and beside him Takeshi is straightening his back and his hands are folding themselves in his lap, and even  _Gokudera_  looks startled.

Tsuna just sighs. "No." Simple, direct, to the point, and Tsuna has his conviction back now.

Agreed to become a Mafia boss he might have done, but that doesn't mean that he'll make this  _easy_  for the hitman.

(The fact still stands – he had never  _wanted to_ , in the first place.

There  _has_  to be a third option he's not aware of yet.

 _Tsuna has to believe that._ )

"When do we start?"

"Right now."

**( - - - )**

(When he returns to his safehouse and checks on the spy camera that he'd planted near Takesushi, there is only static on the monitor.

Reborn tilts down his fedora and frowns.)

**( - - - )**

"…you owe me another spar for this, Yamamoto Keiko. Tuesday night, five o'clock, Namimori Park."

"Fine, fine. As long as you tell him on time."

"Hnn."

**( - - - )**

Reborn has never liked the Bovino's decision to equip one of their children with a weapon and tell them to assassinate him.

(Partially because he doesn't like killing kids, no matter the fact that he'll  _do it,_  and partially because the Bovino are  _idiots_  to give the  _Ten Year Bazooka_  to a  _five-year-old._ )

Surprisingly, Sawada and Yamamoto Takeshi don't react other than to reach out to the cow-print baby and send him down to Yamamoto Tsuyoshi.

Equally surprisingly, Lambo of the Bovino Famiglia does not bother them again until Reborn is out of the sushi-shop establishment and on the streets.

"Die, Reborn!"

He sighs and, without looking, kicks the boy into a nearby wall.

(The Mafia is not  _kind._ )

(He replaces the surveillance camera, and leaves.)

**( - - - )**

Lambo Bovino becomes a daily aspect of life, melding into Tsuna's life as if he's always lived a crazy one, full of school and homework and tutoring, yes, but also of guns and knives and Mafia history and assassination attempts by a five-year-old.

(Who knows? Maybe it always had been that crazy, and Tsuna just hadn't noticed it. He doesn't think anyone else can claim to have a friend whose family secretly fights off both people who try to kill them and the town's unofficially official police figures, after all.)

A week passes, and there is another assassination attempt, this time from someone who turns out to be Gokudera's own  _half-sister._

Later, when Poison Cooking has been scraped off of the floor and Bianchi-san settled with Takeshi's father, Tsuna is ridiculously, fiercely glad that senpai hadn't been home when the Mafiosa had arrived.

(Senpai is still annoyed at Gokudera, he knows. Tsuna doesn't want to find out how she'll react to yet  _another_  assassination attempt on his life from the Italian's family.)

**( - - - )**

"You brought another Mafia assassin in range of Tsuna."

"It was a test."

"You almost let her  _kill_  him."

"The Mafia is not  _kind._  There are no second chances. You know this."

"You only started training my kouhai a few  _days_  ago, a week at best. In that time frame, you've upended his life and set his current Left Hand on him, threatening both Tsuna  _and_  my brother with  _explosives._ "

"You really should have more confidence in them, you know."

"…"

"They are young, and they will adapt. And this is not my first time teaching a Mafia Heir. You should not underestimate me. I am the  _World's Greatest Hitman_  for a reason."

"…you know, I don't think I've said this to you yet, so let's get this straight – I don't care the littlest bit that you're the so-called  _'World's Greatest Hitman.'_  To me, you're just the guy that's teaching Tsuna and Takeshi how to behave in the underworld. And if you directly or indirectly get them killed or cause them permanent to major harm, there is no safe-house that will protect you, no amount of skill that will keep me from killing  _you_ , slowly."

"…"

"So be warned, Reborn of the Mafia. This is not the underworld, where you hold power. This is  _Namimori,_  and the home advantage is highly sought after for a  _reason._ "

**( - - - )**

Any and all surveillance cameras that are Mafia in origin – either his  _or_  CEDEF's – go offline in a matter of days.

Reborn starts tailing Yamamoto Keiko and gathering information on her, after that.

(As well as blackmail, but that's just standard.)

**( - - - )**

"Thanks."

"Hnn. He was getting on my nerves, and the  _Mafia_  and this so-called  _'CEDEF'_  were breaking laws by installing illegal surveillance devices. Saturday, seven o'clock."

"As you say."

**( - - - )**

The days pass.

The  _World's Greatest Hitman_  teaches the still-reluctant Vongola Decimo.

(He has been reading people for years – he can see when a student isn't putting their full heart into a lesson. But, contrary to what people will say about him, he holds back.

The  _terms of war_ are a powerful thing in the language of the underworld.)

**( - - - )**

"SAWADA! YAMAMOTO! GOOD MORNING!"

Takeshi  _laughs_. "Good morning to you too, senpai! What's got you all fired up today?"

Even after a month of living in Namimori, Gokudera looks lost. Tsuna debates giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder, before sighing and doing it. Then he smiles at the Italian when he looks even  _more_  lost.

_One day._

"YOUR EXTREME OLDER SISTER HAS ASKED ME TO INVITE YOU TO THE BOXING CLUB! WE HAVE A MEETING AFTER SCHOOL, THREE O'CLOCK SHARP! DON'T BE LATE!"

Today is a day with no baseball practice, Tsuna knows, because senpai _had_ reminded them this morning. With a smile on her face.

His best friend blinks, startled, before groaning under his breath.  _"Aneki,"_  he whines to thin air, before sighing and nodding to Sasagawa Ryohei. "We'll be there, senpai."

This is her way of showing concern for his ever-increasing amount of bruises. That doesn't mean that Tsuna has to  _like_  it. "I bet we could still skip, though," he mutters to Takeshi, and dodges his automatic elbow jab with a laugh.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Gokudera opening his mouth –  _to protest?_  – before closing it with a click of his teeth and biting his lip.

…' _one day' can't come soon enough._

**( - - - )**

"I heard you tried to kill my kouhai."

"I heard you threatened Reborn, arguably the most dangerous man on the planet."

"That he might be, but he  _had_  pissed me off, so."

"…I see. Has anyone ever told you you've a short temper that's going to get you killed one day?"

_By a certain someone named Reborn, most likely._

"Actually, a lot of people have told me that. And I don't look dead yet, do I?"

"…more like something that the cat dragged in, maybe."

"Oh,  _that_  was all Hibari."

"…Hibari Kyouya?"

"The one and only. By the way, I really  _do_  need to go and soak, so before I go – talk with your brother, will you?"

"Hayato hates me. Surely, even  _you_  can see that."

"Maybe. But right now, Gokudera-kun is still uneasy in his place with Tsuna and Takeshi, and yes, even  _I_ can see that. Though, I probably didn't help by scaring him off."

"Yes, with the threat of no one ever being able to find his body if he threatened your brother or kouhai, wasn't it?"

"Precisely."

"…you don't feel any guilt whatsoever over that, do you?"

"Nope. I have absolutely no obligation to him, ergo, his feelings are not of my concern. And until he proves that he's trustworthy enough for me to put my brother and kouhai's safety with him, or until I start caring about him, whichever happens first, I won't ever regret offing him if I must."

"How very Mafia of you."

"I am, aren't I? Now, please, excuse me. I need to get out of these clothes."

"You're excused, since you  _do_  need a bath; I can smell the sweat from here."

"Oh, shut up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a few weeks of work, and running overtime, and breaking my computer, here is another chapter.
> 
> (Jan 12, 2018 Edit: The extra _does the bell still toll for thee?_ has been posted as a separate fic in this series for organizational purposes.)
> 
> Perhaps I'll do another extra for the 500th review; perhaps not. Regardless, the question this time is: Thoughts? Feelings? Did I throw you for a loop? Was I too predictable? Feel welcome to leave any additional notes, too!


	9. 04: waiting for something that might come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's waiting and more waiting, but this time something changes. Cross your fingers and cross your heart; it's the calm before the storm.

Bianchi never does talk to her brother.

(It's not just because the mere sight of her face would make him faint, either.)

(He's not the only one being a coward.)

**( - - - )**

Somehow, between one boxing match and the next, Sasagawa Ryohei becomes another 'senpai,' after his official title of 'Captain.'

Takeshi only laughs when Tsuna mentions that to him, not even disturbed by the fact that he's lifted up another person to senpai status when his only other one is… well,  _Keiko-senpai._  "It only makes sense," the dark-haired says, and throws an arm around Tsuna's shoulders. "I mean, we're not  _really_  part of the boxing club, invitation from Sasagawa-senpai himself or not. Aneki won't mind, Tsuna."

"I mean it," he adds when Tsuna really,  _really_  contemplates protesting. "She'll be  _happy_  that you're branching out. Don't worry so much, yeah?"

A sigh. "…you're right," and the younger of the two finally dredges up a smile. "I just – it's so…  _odd,_  to call another person 'senpai' after years of calling only Keiko-senpai that."

His friend opens his mouth, but whatever he'd been about to say is interrupted when a silver-haired wreck is slammed down onto the boxing mat again. Sasagawa-senpai stands over him, eyebrows furrowed in a moment of contemplation.

Then he's crouching down and yelling in Gokudera-kun's face: "Where's your extreme spirit?! GET UP! TRY AGAIN!"

Something like a mumbled sound of frustration comes from the heap of silver and boxing sparring gear.

"…should we go save him?"

"…nah. He's Mafia, right? He can handle it."

"If you say so…"

It's been a few months since they've met the Italian, but Tsuna  _does_  still get worried about him.

(Well, actually  _all_  of the time, Mafia or not. He's only  _their age_ , still young enough to be in Namimori Middle with them _._  It's not fair to treat him like – like they treat Bianchi-san, or even Reborn-san, both adults that seem to be  _happy_  to be in the Mafia.

For all they know, Gokudera-kun  _isn't,_  and  _that's what bothers Tsuna the most._ )

But true to Takeshi's words, Gokudera-kun  _really does_  get up and try again. Hands in front, feet apart and balanced, with no sign of the bruises and aches that he surely must be feeling.

Tsuna can't help but feeling a little awe at that, worry or not.

**( - - - )**

_Ring. Ring._

_Click._

"Who am I speaking to?"

"It's me."

There's a pause on the other end of the line, and then: "Ah. I was wondering when you'd call. Is it time yet?"

"It is."

"Alright. I'll be right over, then."

_Click._

The  _World's Greatest Hitman_  stares at the green phone in his hand, before letting it revert back into the old, reliable shape of his partner.

He has his own suspicions of how his current student will react, but it never hurts to have a reliable fall-back protocol, just in case.

 _This is the second move._ Reborn tucks Leon away back onto the brim of his fedora, and takes his leave.

**( - - - )**

Unfortunately, boxing training with the club and the occasional spar with the captain himself isn't all that's new in Tsuna's life.

Reborn-san teaches Mafia history and politics. Bianchi-san teaches the proper ways to spot an assassin in a crowd, and techniques to avoid them.

…at least Keiko-senpai's still teaching him school things, because Takeshi aside, he needs  _something_  normal after a day of school, Mafia, and Gokudera.

(Yes, Gokudera is his own category. No, Tsuna doesn't find it funny either.)

But finally, his long-awaited  _One day_  comes.

The day starts normally enough – Tsuna wakes up in time to his alarm clock's ring, rolling out of bed in a half-asleep haze and looking through his closet for something clean to wear.

Then it's roughly fifteen minutes for breakfast, before hauling his things outside the door with half-an-attempt at a goodbye to his kaa-chan.

(Keiko-senpai had been…  _especially helpful_  in getting him up and early as a habit, that summer.)

Tsuna meets Takeshi on the path to school, and Gokudera-kun joins them from…  _somewhere_ , jogging down the street to catch up and staying behind them both even though there's plenty of room for three to walk at once. But that's sadly the norm these days, so Tsuna lets it slide after a brief offer and a surface-humble, actually-longing headshake from Gokudera.

(Takeshi doesn't say a word, other than an expressionless look at the silver-haired boy and a strained smile at Tsuna afterwards.)

Actual school goes over well enough. Lunch does, too, other than the single incident of Gokudera getting frustrated enough that Tsuna's afraid he'll pull out his dynamites again (the ones that he'd somehow concealed from the Disciplinary Committee,  _again_ ), but ultimately the Italian doesn't and he can breathe easily.

It's only when he's on the road back home, Takeshi laughing at his side, Gokudera behind him, wary and dark, that he feels something is… off.

…

…

…off, and  _wrong._

(But there's no reason for it to be, is there?)

**( - - - )**

Kaa-san isn't home – that is the first sign. (But it's one that he'll only recognize later.)

It's still September, and yet long past the baseball season. Takeshi's not supposed to go home tonight until Takesushi's closed. That fact comforts Tsuna the most, right now, standing just outside the door to his own house, hand poised to knock.

(The sense of  _wrong_  hasn't gone away yet, and he  _knows_  he's scaring his friends with the way he's gone motionless, but  _there is something wrong_.)

Still, there's nothing to do but press forward.

The house is eerily quiet when Tsuna shouts out "Tadaima!" anyway, shucking off his shoes in the genkan and padding on socked feet instead. Takeshi's not too far behind, but his laughter's gone. They venture further into the house and Tsuna opts to wait in the kitchen for Gokudera-kun to finish coming in –

"Let me go ahead," a voice murmurs behind him, and Tsuna almost jumps out of his own skin before he realizes that it had been Gokudera-kun who had spoken. The silver-haired's eyes are dark, and he's visibly biting his lip. He's still determined, though.

It's the first time that he's suggested something of his own initiative. All other times he'd followed Tsuna's lead, hyper aware of his movements and trying to anticipate him, but this time Gokudera-kun is  _different._

(Granted, still about something on Tsuna's safety, but it's a  _start._ )

Takeshi is giving the rest of the house a wary look when Tsuna glances at him, and doesn't move to answer.

Tsuna takes a deep breath –  _slow and steady_  – and lets it out. "Be careful."

Silver hair flops as Gokudera nods his head and slips away up the stairs, fingers reaching for the places where he keeps his dynamites.

If all of this turns out to be something that Tsuna's dreamed up, then he's going to laugh. Hysterically. Out of mortification, yes, but also out of relief, because  _the house is too quiet_  and normally that's not a problem, but  _there's something – or someone – else in the house other than them._

(He's been living in this structure of wood and stone and paint for his entire life. He  _knows_  what it feels like when it's empty, and when it's full with guests, wanted or not.)

"You weren't expecting anyone today, right?" Takeshi murmurs from next to him, hands grasping empty air as if reaching around a baseball bat that doesn't exist, and Tsuna nods. Kaa-san rarely has friends over, but when she does, it's always scheduled. Like clockwork.  _Every other Friday is Watanabe-san, the third Tuesday is always for Borage-san –_

_Creak._

– That didn't come from the ceiling.

And –

_..._

_..._

_...there._

Tsuna whips around, bring up his forearms to block, an instinct and reflex after a couple of rounds in the boxing ring with Sasagawa-senpai.

The punch aimed for the back of his head meets his forearms, and Tsuna grits his teeth and bears it. Takeshi's on his attacker the next minute, leg sweeping out to trip and hands folded and ready to hit the nearest soft spot, but the tables are turned and his friend's the one suddenly on the ground instead. Takeshi goes down with a sharp  _crack_  of his head against the tiled floor.

" _Juudaime!"_  Gokudera-kun's coming down, thundering down the stairs, but Tsuna doesn't pay any attention because that's his  _friend_  on the ground, that's  _Takeshi,_  and somehow he pushes the attacker –  _his eyes are wide_  – away from Takeshi before he can do any more damage and knees him in the gut. The guy goes down wheezing, and for good measure Tsuna takes his elbow and whips it into the guy's temple to knock him out.

Tsuna doesn't feel the jolt of pain down his forearm; he's too busy watching the man he'd reflexively attacked crumple to the floor, eerily like the way that Takeshi had done.

A moment, and another, and then Gokudera-kun is  _there,_  examining the body on the floor, and the sudden sight of silver hair startles Tsuna into action again –  _careful, be careful in turning Takeshi over, there isn't any blood on the floor but that's not the real danger_.

Head injuries always bleed a lot. He'd hit the floor, so there's a minimal chance that he'd have split open his skull. Tsuna reassures himself with facts even as he watches Gokudera-kun help Takeshi up, bracing them both against a wall, far enough away from the other man on the floor.

(Who… isn't  _getting up,_  but Tsuna doesn't have  _time_  to worry about  _him_  right now, not when – )

"…you sure you weren't expecting anyone, Tsuna?" Takeshi asks with a smile on his face.

Tsuna can't help but laugh.

**( - - - )**

He's killed a man.

He'd only wanted to knock him out, but he's  _killed_  a  _man_  – no pulse, no breathing and everything. How that even happened, he doesn't want to know.

Distantly, Tsuna thinks that he should be more shocked than he is right now, but the only thing going through his mind is:  _Good riddance._

(Because if he thinks anything else, he's going to break and shatter and fall apart, and he  _can't do that_  right now.

Even  _if_  something still feels like it's wrong.)

With Takeshi settled at the kitchen table and himself fussing over his friend with bandages and an icepack, Gokudera-kun summons a cell phone from somewhere, rapidly talking to the other person on the line. The silver-haired boy's voice is not shaky – only calm and in-control, and Tsuna hangs onto that fact for dear life.

Bandages later, Gokudera-kun sighs and leans against the wall, not moving to take a chair. "I've called people, Juudaime," he says, and his voice is weary. Self-reproaching.

Tsuna can imagine what's going through his head right now – something along the lines of  _"It's my fault,"_  he's sure.

(But why would it be  _Gokudera's_  fault if  _Tsuna's_  the one who killed a man, slammed an elbow into his head so hard that he – isn't breathing –)

"They'll be by to collect the body soon, and they'll be discreet about it, too –"

"There's something wrong with this."

"Huh?" Gokudera's jolted out of his thoughts, and Tsuna presses on before he can be interrupted. "That knock on the head shouldn't have interrupted his breathing. I hit the  _temple,_  and I didn't even hear his skull crack, so why isn't he  _breathing_?"

A thoughtful pause. Then Gokudera narrows his eyes, and his agile mind is moving, rearranging pieces of information and revaluating things. Tsuna waits for him to finish.

There's only one good explanation for  _why,_  and Tsuna has a bad feeling that –

"Ciaossu."

– It has something to do with his hitman tutor.

(He's been the source of many a madness for weeks now, including assassins, guns, and  _children_  playing  _Mafioso,_  just to name a few. Surely a fake death isn't too hard for him?)

Reborn walks into the kitchen with the usual swagger in his step and his fedora casting a shadow over his eyes. Bianchi, who's usually with him, is nowhere to be seen.

 _Probably for Gokudera,_  Tsuna thinks, glancing over at the Italian himself. Takeshi by his side slowly straightens and his eyes grow sharper, concussion or no concussion, in response to the idle threat.

"Good instincts," Reborn acknowledges. He kicks at the body still sprawled on the floor. It twitches, then slowly starts breathing again. Tsuna stares, heart in his throat. "This was supposed to simulate your having killed a man, but training on making sure of your target's death will suffice."

 _Of course_  the hitman would be content to switch plans around in a case such as this one. Tsuna still feels a shiver go down his spine at the casual mention of  _killing a man_.

Said man shivers, blinks his eyes,  _opens them,_  and sits up. He even gives a casual little wave, and with a quick glance Tsuna can see that Takeshi's eyes have widened in shock even as Gokudera's have narrowed.

"Though, that still leaves the killing lesson to be learnt." The not-baby's black eyes take on a hostile glint to them, and Takeshi beside him is openly  _glaring_ , all humor and attempt at being anything other than high levels of  _pissed off_  in the wind with this recent situation.

Tsuna can relate, but all he does is sigh and rub at his head.

"Gokudera-kun," he starts, and watches the Italian start, switching attention from the  _not-dead_  man to him – "Thanks for the quick-thinking in calling disposal. I don't think I could have done it myself."

They are small praises that make his stomach churn, and it had taken everything he had to keep his voice level –  _never show your enemy weakness_  – but Gokudera… does not smile, but does loosen, tension draining from his shoulders, and that is worth it.

(…but  _why_ had there been tension in the first place?

Things to think about.)

Tsuna breathes in deeply, and lets it out just as calmly.

"Is there anything else you wanted,  _Reborn-san?_ "

The hitman frowns and gives the not-dead man a  _look_. The latter gives a chagrinned smile, stands, dusts off his clothing, and leaves. The front door closes behind him with a solid  _click_  that can be heard from the kitchen.

"Did you forget your afternoon class already?" Reborn chides. The expression on his face is a grin, smug and condescending, and sharp with an edge.

Tsuna refuses to flinch.

**( - - - )**

Keiko stares up at the open blue sky, watching clouds slowly drift in the afternoon wind. The park grass beneath her scratches against the back of her bare neck, her pulled-away hair exposing the more sensitive skin, but she can't be bothered to move.

_Negative comments always last longer in memory than the positive ones._

_But still…_

_I'd decided to get involved, because the future is_ malleable.  _Can still be_ changed,  _if I put enough effort into it._

_And yet._

("How very Mafia of you.")

Is she becoming what she'd tried to keep her own kouhai and brother from becoming?

_"And when you gaze long into the abyss the abyss also stares into you."_

_Is it worth staring too long?_

…

…

…why is that even a  _question_?  _Of course_  it is.

She's already changed so much – the switch of Left and Right Hands, the hesitancy in Gokudera Hayato's step,  _Reborn_  and his role – that she doesn't think that it'd be  _worth it_  to stop.

**( - - - )**

( _Famous last words._ )

**( - - - )**

Matsuoka Satomi knows just who and what she is. Ever-sunny Satomi-chan, flitting here to there, doing work and dropping things. Always cheerful, always up for a joke or three. That's her job – be happy. Distract. Do work, get good grades, keep her head down, and be the model daughter.

( _As far as Japan has come, the idea of the "Yamato nadeshiko" is still prevalent._ )

Being the model daughter would mean that when confronted by a crying Eri, stoic and silent but still  _crying,_ she'd offer a handkerchief or something of the sort, and ask what is wrong, offering a sympathetic shoulder to bawl weary eyes out on.

But that's not who Satomi  _is_  – who she is out of the house and her parents' expectations and the hundred and one things that keeps her tied to the cold, hard ground.

Instead, Satomi sits down next to her childhood friend, slings an arm around her shoulders, and casually asks, "What happened, and who do I need to eviscerate?"

The chocked laughter makes her grin. "Really, who? 'Cause Hitomi-chan still owes me a favor, and I wanna get to 'em before Keiko does, this time."

"No evisceration," is Eri's reply after a few moments taken to wipe away the salt-water. "And please, no destroying reputations,  _again._ Takishita Mimi still hasn't recovered."

"And she  _shouldn't,_ " Satomi declares. "I made damn well sure of it."

"Still."

"Hmph. Well, it's got you crying, and that means it's  _big._  Don't try to deny it, either," she adds when Eri opens her mouth. The latter closes it, and Satomi blazes onward: "You know I'm going to find out eventually, anyway. So. Spill."

Eri tries one last time, saying, "Really. It's nothing big," but another of Satomi's glares has her sighing and giving up. "Mizukuro."

" _Again?_ " It doesn't matter what she's just promised Eri,  _that_  is ash and dust in the wind compared to this new information. "I will  _murder_  that guy if I have to, this is the third time this  _month_ , I will have his  _head_  this time –"

"Satomi."

There's a sound of wordless frustration, only given voice with a growl. "Fine.  _Fine._  I'll settle for his tattered reputation at my feet."

Eri only sighs. "And an anonymous tip to the Namimori Disciplinary Group?"

"You know it."

At least Satomi's revenge will be sights better than  _Keiko_  going after the boy, swinging her  _shinai_  in only the way of that the lethally trained can.  _That_  will end in broken bones and hospital bills.

_A hit-and-run accident, of course._

"…that'll only, you know,  _destroy_  his chances at entering the tennis tournament, though."

Satomi scoffs as if she's insulted her. "That's the entire point, ne?"

Eri blinks, dabs the final spots of wetness from her eyes, and smiles. "Thanks."

She doesn't need to say anything else, and Satomi gives her a grin in response. "Any time."

**( - - - )**

The seasons turn. September shifts into October, and the weather gets colder and colder. They resort to warmer clothing, in preparation for the oncoming winter that is sure to follow.

Takeshi laughs, bright and merry, a light ringing sound in the streets, even with the new burdens that they all carry. Gokudera-kun is looser now than he'd first been, not as stiff in his movements and his words, and deigns to let more of his original –  _true_ – temper shine through.

(He thinks that he can live with this.)

With his friends – old and new – by his side, Tsuna stares into the sky, and  _breathes._

**( - - - )**

The first move had been countered well; the second, with poise that Dino could never have hoped to match, this early.

It is too early to put his third move into play.

(For now, anyway.)

Reborn tilts down the brim of his fedora, and resigns himself to waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going further and further along into canon, though it's still moving pretty slow.
> 
> The quote "And when you gaze long into the abyss the abyss also stares into you." is from Friedrich Nietzsche.
> 
> And as always, a question for this chapter: How do you feel about Tsuna's not-really-murder of a man? Thoughts and comments are appreciated!


	10. 05. building up to something more promising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Appearances are deceptive. Choose your allies wisely but stay on your toes, because we're sure as hell not stopping for any gawking on the way.

The first days of November are cold, windy and _hard_. Keiko-senpai keeps drilling him in stamina, in strength. Time spent with Sasagawa-senpai becomes lessons in reaction time, in rolling with the punches and pulling up to strike at an opening.

Keiko-senpai had taught him how to down his attackers, quick and dirty, before running. Keiko-senpai has been his only senpai for… for…

For a long, long time.

But there is the Mafia, and the black-eyed steel-spined home tutor intent on making him into a _Mafia Boss_ , no matter his feelings, and Keiko-senpai cannot save him from that.

It would not be fair, Tsuna thinks, for him to expect her to save him for the rest of his life.

“That’s ridiculous,” Takeshi says when he mentions it over lunch. His eyes are not laughing; he leans in, perfectly serious. By his other side, Gokudera pretends not to be listening, but the slight tilt of his head gives him away. “You know we can rely on her, no matter what.”

Tsuna knows this.

He _knows_ this, he cannot stop himself from turning to her when everything has gone to hell in a handbasket, he _knows_ he should not and yet he does.

She still keeps the dragon-charm that he and Takeshi had made, years ago, wears it around her neck whenever she can.

Tsuna looks at math homework in his bag, feels the seconds hand of the clock on his wall tick by.

She is his senpai. His solid rock, his steadiness, because Takeshi might be all that and more, but his best friend still looks to his older sister to solve the problems that he cannot.

Yamamoto Keiko calls him _kouhai_ ; was the first to defend him.

Yamamoto Keiko is _human_ , and though he _knows_ she is strong there is a limit to what he will allow.

**(- - -)**

All relationships go both ways.

**(- - -)**

Takei Eri is many things, but a fool is not one of them.

Namimori has always been an… _odd_ town.

The walls hide more secrets than there are shadows. The yakuza here heckle the shops, the people, but are kept leashed easily enough by a young boy and his group of delinquents.

(She would know. She’s one of those that had seen the teeth in the dark and the gradual coming of a storm in the last months and had readied her weaponry instead of shuttering her windows.)

People who do not know her look at her and think: _ordinary_.

People from Namimori who have seen her at the back of a girl with a sword and unafraid to use it, a girl with her words as her weapon and a tongue as a knife, and have kept up with both of them think anything but that.

Keiko is agitated. She does not say so, does not even outwardly _look_ enough so for the other girls of their school to notice, but they have their years between them, nights of silence and breathing and the occasional whispered word in the dark. Eri _knows_.

She also knows that Satomi knows, that Keiko knows they know.

And yet.

Keiko does not tell them. Eri does not like that.

So she does what she knows best: dives into resources, and looks.

**(- - -)**

The one thing that many, many schemers have failed to account for, to realize, to remember:

Targets - pawns - are human. Humans move the way they think it is best for them to do, and not the schemer’s.

(Sometimes, if a schemer is very, very good, they can account for this. But only sometimes.)

(A truth: no one has ever been able to account for Takei Eri, much less when she is with Matsuoka Satomi, or Yamamoto Keiko.)

(And if all three are together - well.)

**(- - -)**

Reborn does not plant any more surveillance devices - each had been destroyed, their shattered remnants left as a warning.

He knows what it means. There are watchers’ eyes on the back of his neck, between his shoulder-blades. The Terms of War still ring in his ears.

He is the _World’s Greatest Hitman_. He is on someone else’s home turf.

( _This is Namimori, and the home advantage is highly sought after for a reason._ )

Reborn has not survived this long by being an idiot and ignoring signs. Arcobaleno he may be, and yet Yamamoto Keiko has the backing of Hibari Kyouya, her own family, his student, and what seems to be the town of Namimori.

He’d be impressed, if all that weren’t being used against him. Right now, he’s just _annoyed_.

He glares at the eyes down the street. They flinch, glance away involuntarily - he might be in a child’s form, but he has not lost his edge.

Leon curls his tail around Reborn’s neck in reassurance, even as he stalks off.

**(- - -)**

I-Pin arrives in a fit of nervousness, enthusiasm, and the constant threat of a bomb that is, for all intents and purposes, _reusable_.

Keiko eyes the disaster that she is, that all else would tell her that the little girl is, and sees someone else from years ago.

(Something that she will tell no one else: she remembers the name, does not remember the importance. Whether that is from years slipping through her fingers like water or if it is indicative of something else, she does not know.)

I-Pin is an assassin on a mission that mistakes her kouhai for her target.

I-Pin is a five-year-old.

**(- - -)**

“Were you behind this?”

“I don’t quite understand what you mean.”

“I-Pin. Tsuna.”

“...no, I was not.”

“Hm.” She does not believe him; he does not expect her to. It would go against everything that he has established about her by this point.

She walks away without any more questions. Reborn watches her go, tilts down the tip of his fedora, and very deliberately does not shoot at where he can feel his own watchers’ eyes.

**(- - -)**

Bovino Lambo continues his assassination attempts, but they soon taper off once he realizes that yes, I-Pin is a friend, and yes, I-Pin will play with him. Especially if he teases her into throwing things at him.

Keiko leans backward and smiles more at her kouhai than the antics of the two children in the background.

“They’re so… lively,” Tsuna mutters. Beside him, Takeshi is working furiously on his homework, and Gokudera is at his elbow. “Were we that loud at that age?”

“That, and much more.” Keiko smiles when Tsuna stares at the two children currently causing a _mess_ in the thankfully cleared-away backyard, when he shares a bewildered look with her own brother.

Gokudera looks left out, eyes distant. His fingers twitch, before relaxing.

(Keiko knows that look - has seen it more than once from the very boy now comparing anecdotes with her brother of their mischief in the past. She _knows_.)

“They were such a pain in the neck,” Keiko directs towards Gokudera, who startles before bristling like a cat; but she only leans back, head tilting more in his direction than the duo’s, now lost in memories and leaving pencils and homework abandoned on the table. “Takeshi wanted to play baseball _all the time_ , and Tsuna’d go along with it, even when they ran into trouble.”

Gokudera blinks slowly but does not say a word.

Keiko knows this too, and instead takes a ruler that had been previously used for math and repurposes it into a makeshift weapon to snap her kouhai and brother out of it.

**(- - -)**

(Namimori might give them the home advantage, but one thing that they have forgotten:

The world is much larger than just Namimori. Civilians and children cannot measure up to the mafia in its whole.)

**(- - -)**

Tsuna comes home to black cars in front of his house, his living room filled with men in crisp, black suits and sunglasses, and a blond man at his kitchen table, sipping at his mother’s coffee.

In deference to his mother humming in the kitchen, Tsuna does not ask where in the world the blond man is from. Instead he looks to his self-proclaimed Mafia tutor.

Reborn smiles.

**(- - -)**

“You let him meet the _Decimo of the Cavallone_ in his _own house_ with his _civilian mother_?”

“He needs to learn how to negotiate with those of the Mafia. Besides, _I_ was there.”

**(- - -)**

But Reborn thinks he knows what Yamamoto Keiko sees in his student: Sawada Tsunayoshi is kind-hearted and yet has determination in spades. There is already the beginnings of a stern spine that he can hammer into steel, which the brat will need in order to survive.

He thinks he knows what Tsuna sees in his senpai: quiet, but steady. She has an easy nature that has those around her being fooled into letting down their guard, before she slips in with a well-placed word and strike. And she speaks and acts with a sternness that is meant, always, for the betterment of the recipient.

Reborn is not blind; he knows that by Mafia standards, Sawada Tsunayoshi has four Guardians in his inner circle and one potential Guardian primarily occupied by his senpai but close enough in proximity for a bonding. And for all that he acts the civilian, Yamamoto Tsuyoshi had been an assassin in the Italian Mafia, powerful enough to have achieved the Dying Will Flame.

He’d ask Yamamoto Keiko directly if he thought it would get him answers. As it is, he merely waits until the kids are tucked away and his almost-Guardians are out of the house and in their own home.

Then he sits on the table where Tsuna is studying and _stares_ at his Flame. He knows it is Sky; there are enough flickers of it that he can taste the Harmonization. But there is a layer of Rain over it that certainly does not come from Yamamoto Takeshi, nor Yamamoto Tsuyoshi.

No matter.

“What is it, Reborn?” Tsuna asks, putting down his pencil.

“Hold still,” he replies, and pulses his own Sun Flames into those slivers of Sky.

In the next moment, Tsuna doubles over and starts keening in pain.

**(- - -)**

In the end, Reborn has to rush his student to the hospital and call Dino from his hotel for a Flame transfusion.

He’d ask Vongola Nono why he’d thought it was a good idea to put a _seal_ on a _child’s_ Flames, especially that of a Sky. Sealing never ends well, but to do it to one who is meant to balance others through Harmonization, and to contain Flames of that strength and purity -

“Vongola Nono placed a seal on Tsunayoshi’s Flames,” he tells Yamamoto Keiko when there is a moment, the outrage of Tsuna’s almost-Guardians unfolding before them as they are left without a target to lash out on, kicked out as they are of Tsuna’s room while Dino holds him steady.

She pauses; then there is a flare of Rain, one he’s never seen before from her and would never have expected because of how dampened down it was, which cuts out as abruptly as it blazed. She does not break anything but there is a stillness to her that Reborn knows is predatory.

“I had suspected something of the sort,” she says. She eyes him knowingly.

“Rain Flames to soothe him and hold him stable,” Reborn muses, and tilts his fedora up. He’d heard stories of Yamamoto Tsuyoshi’s powerful Rain Flame, often worked into his swordwork. His son has yet to show signs of any, but it seems his daughter, at least, has inherited the strength and purity of them, perhaps even surpassing her father.

And if there is anything that Reborn respects, it is those with the technique and strength to hold their own, and those canny enough to realize when hiding it is the best option.

Yamamoto Keiko dips her head, saying, “I did what I could,” and for once -

Reborn shuts down that thought. Says, slowly, “I believe we started off on the wrong foot.”

She smiles, then. “I’m Yamamoto Keiko, and I look after my idiot brother and my idiot kouhai and all of their idiot friends.”

Reborn doesn’t bother to hold back the snort, and tamps down on the smile until it is a smirk, regardless of the glint in Keiko’s eyes. “I’m Reborn, the World’s Greatest Hitman, and Mafia tutor to one idiot Sawada Tsunayoshi.”

**(- - -)**

Without the seal, Tsuna’s Sky Flames are the strongest and purest that Reborn has ever seen. Even Dino seems dazed when he finishes the transfusion and slumps back into the hard-backed hospital chair.

And yet curiously, Keiko’s Flames don’t seem attracted to them. Which is fair, given that Reborn can already sense the Guardian bonds forming with those that Tsuna calls friends - Yamamoto Takeshi, Gokudera Hayato, Sasagawa Ryohei, Sasagawa Kyoko - but given their time and proximity to each other Reborn had thought that it would have included Keiko in that list.

And then he looks, _really_ looks, at Keiko’s Flames, and he knows he’s staring, and yet this turns everything he’s ever thought about the girl on its head and still, in hindsight, makes so much sense -

“Are you alright, Reborn?” she asks him, tone steady and not at all perturbed by the fact that a hitman in an infant’s body is staring at a point above her heart, where the core of the Flame is. Though it’s currently dampened down to the point where it’s dubious if Keiko even has access to her Flames or not, Reborn, now knowing what to look for, can sense it.

“Better than alright,” he says automatically, and shelves the musings away. This could be coincidence, anyway. Perhaps supporting Tsuna for so long with her Flames left a hint of Sky in them in a case of cross-contamination.

( _Or perhaps_ , some part of him whispers, _it’s real_ , because her Rain Flames have been proven to be able to overwhelm those of the Sky in order to shore them up, and even these slivers are a pure, crystalline sunset orange to Tsuna’s sunrise.)

Perhaps he’s merely drunk on Sky Flames, after such a long time without and after Luce’s betrayal. Reborn firmly turns his mind to other things, such as sending Dino home and filching Tsuna’s medical report from the hospital staff and watching Keiko herd the rest of the teenagers in and out of Tsuna’s private room as needed.

And even if he’s right, there is time. There is no need to rush things.

**(- - -)**

The number of watchers when he moves in Namimori falls away until there are only two left, so few compared to before that it is hardly concerning. Some of his surveillance devices are destroyed but a few are left, which are mostly those for the outside Tsuna’s house and other defensive points in the surrounding neighborhood and town.

There is the feeling in his chest that is not quite warm but not quite cold, either, and if Reborn were a weaker man he would call this affection.

**(- - -)**

He gets a call from Vongola Nono three days later: “Rokudo Mukuro and his associates have escaped from Vendicare. Sawada Tsunayoshi is to apprehend them and deliver them to the Vindici, who wish to keep the breakout as quiet as possible. The briefing and relative information has been uploaded to you.”

Reborn wants to say many things: _Why did you place a seal on an under-age confirmed Sky; Why didn’t you inform me sooner of this; Why did you think that you could leave Tsuna alone for years after changing his life irrevocably like this and think that it would be fine -_

He doesn’t say any of it. He says, instead, “I understand,” and hates the grandfatherly smiles and decorum more than anything else that he has ever hated.

**(- - -)**

The next day, Matsuo Shiro of the Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee is attacked and left to bleed out on the sidewalk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally?? Updated _Seiryuu_ as well?? This plus _Someday_ makes a great start to 2018.
> 
> I've thought a lot about _Seiryuu_ over the years as well, which might be a given thanks to the almost three year delay in getting the next chapter out, but that was also tempered with copious amounts of my own character and writing development. There are some things I regret doing with _Seiryuu_ , and some things that I wish I'd tried if I'd known how to do it. Still, I'm pretty happy with this chapter and the direction that we're going.
> 
> I've edited some things that have bothered me through the years, namely the chapter titles and summaries, as well as officially changed my own username. This chapter is also not available on Fanfiction.net, for reference, because I abhor that site for its mirrors and members that tend to take an author's work and claim that they own it. :/
> 
> Comments, though, are my lifeblood and my motivation and I love them all dearly.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!


	11. 06. flint and steel and buckets of will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of many challenges await you, lionheart. Stay brave. Stay bold. Stay yourself.

Distracted as he had been by his less than warm welcome to Namimori, Reborn had noticed but shelved many observations about the people around Tsuna that he now has the luxury to revisit; and if there is the slightest edge of pressure to it, to his grilling Tsuna on his relations with his peers in order to sift through potential Guardian candidates other than the two that the boy has now, at least no one has the audacity to comment as such to his face.

Perhaps the most promising and bloodthirsty candidate, Hibari Kyouya leaves Tsuna alone save to remind him and his friends of the rules, eyeing the boy and Yamamoto Takeshi with interest from the side and with the single minded intensity of a hawk for Gokudera. He looks so much like the Storm Arcobaleno in his calmer moments that Reborn would not be surprised if they were related. His behavior suggests an unrealized Cloud Flame, though if he is interested in Tsuna at all in a way that would facilitate a Guardian bonding Reborn cannot be quite certain just yet. 

Sasagawa Kyoko, in contrast, glides into the conflicts that occur in her vicinity and defuses them with a few well placed words and smiles - and knows that she's doing so, Reborn notes, when she speaks to Tsuna genuinely and with a hint of teeth in his hospital room. Those less knowledgeable about Flames and their interaction with the Dying Will would call her a Mist; but Reborn sees her in her role as the school idol and the way she wields her popularity like a scalpel, and slots her carefully into the empty Lightning Guardian spot. 

(A powerful Lightning the Bovino brat may be, but he is still too young yet to be of any use in an immediate fight. The Boxing Team Captain’s younger sister, though, is known to occasionally spar with her brother’s teammates, and from what footage Reborn has been able to produce he can see she is quite good for a civilian, and has the potential to become very, very lethal.)

Kurokawa Hana is similar to Hibari Kyouya, yet different. Though both tend to drift, keeping to themselves and their chosen company, where one challenges others through physical violence the other does so by using words to draw metaphorical blood. And, as Reborn learns, Kurokawa is only truly friends with Sasagawa Kyoko; a package deal, he supposes.

Rain, Storm, Sun, a potential Lightning, and the possibility of a Cloud from two separate people. It will, Reborn thinks wearily, have to do. 

**(- - -)**

But Yamamoto Keiko - here Renato does not click his tongue in annoyance, but he sorely wishes to. There are few things he dislikes more than being wrong.

So. 

Hypothesis: Keiko has been pumping Tsuna full of Rain Flames, which the boy then unconsciously converted into Sky. This is why he has not noticed anything odd about the boy’s Flames until now.

Hypothesis: Keiko has been pumping Tsuna full of _Sky_ Flames, which she has been facilitating with those of the Rain, and in non concentrated amounts, leaving an impression of a spider’s web made of Rain Flames holding Tsuna’s heart of hearts together.

Hypothesis: Reborn’s attention has been so invested in teaching the Vongola Decimo candidate and in the unexpected difficulties in integrating with the Namimori community that oddities like this are better off investigated later, when he is in the town’s good graces.

Reborn can at least admit to himself, in the deepest, darkest, most private corners of his mind, which one is the most likely to be true.

(“There are many things we need to talk about,” she'd told him, now that they are vaguely on the same page as each other. Her eyes had been chips of blue, like the old glaciers he'd seen when he'd been in Greenland for a job, and her gaze had cut to the woman cheerfully humming in the kitchen and back. 

Interesting, but ominous. Reborn has lived in this house for weeks, after all, and he has seen what kind of person Sawada Nana is: delightful at cooking, always good-natured, and deliberately air-headed.)

**(- - -)**

The resident Yamamoto eldest is an enigma, and Reborn spends what time he has while he isn’t busy stuffing Mafia knowledge into Tsuna’s head as fast as he possibly can observing her: walking to and from Midori High with her own seclusive friends - Matsuoka Satomi and Takei Eri, his reconnaissance reveals - and tutoring the kids in their homework. 

The more he sees her, the more he is bewildered, something that he can at least admit to himself in the privacy of his own mind but would never be caught dead admitting out loud. This is the girl - a _child_ \- who, knowingly or unknowingly, consciously or unconsciously, had shielded Tsuna from the more fatal effects of having Sealed Flames. That fact itself would have made Yamamoto Keiko a near savant in the use of Flames. Should have. 

But he cannot sense any usage of it in her everyday life, even in her weekly spars with Namimori’s resident terror of a Hibari; aside from the single unexpected flare at the hospital, Keiko sparks neither Rain nor Sky Flames.

It is curious, Reborn concedes. Very curious; perhaps even curious enough to push questions. Still, there are times for questions, and he knows with the sinking gut feeling that has kept him alive for decades that the following days will not be one of them.

One of the Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee’s higher ranking members is picked off, in the middle of the night and missing six teeth. People think it dangerous and not much else of it other than a yakuza turf war gone wrong, and Hibari Kyouya overturns three neighborhoods in his hunt for the local gangs that haven’t kept their heads down and noses clean long enough.

Then Sasagawa Ryohei is ambushed on the way to Boxing Team practice, and is found with five missing teeth.

**(- - -)**

“I need you to trust me,” Reborn says.

Tsuna, Gokudera, and Yamamoto Takeshi all stare at him. Behind them, Keiko gives him a knowing look. He ignores that, keeping his attention on his student and potential Guardians.

“There's been a breakout at Vendicare,” he continues, and at that Gokudera startles. Tsuna’s eyes flick from his Left Hand back to his tutor, and there must be at least some form of the Vongola’s infamous Hyper Intuition at play because the boy straightens and his attention intensifies. “The Vongola Nono has ordered us to recover the prisoners and return them to the Vindice. Luckily for us, Rokudo Mukuro and his subordinates are thought to be coming here.”

“To kill the Vongola Heir,” Tsuna murmurs, then stills, eyebrows furrowing. 

“How'd you reach that conclusion, Tsuna?” Yamamoto Takeshi’s tone is still edged in that perpetual cheer, but his eyes are hard and he is gripping his pencil hard enough for it to bend. He has been taking sword lessons from his sister lately, Reborn remembers, and is distantly glad for it.

“What other reason is there for Reborn-san to tell us about it?” Tsuna asks, exasperated, and sighs when Leon turns into a hammer. He runs a hand over his hair, fluffing it up even more into an irredeemable mess. “Vendicare is the Mafia prison, right? There's nothing else of interest to a criminal in Namimori; Reborn-san’s arrival is the most interesting thing to happen in years.”

“And his movements are always being scrutinized because he’s the Sun Arcobaleno,” Smoking Bomb mutters, and startles again when Tsuna turns to him, nearly whipping his head around. 

The boy is frowning in thought, now. “You've been throwing around that word a lot,” he notes. If Keiko’s eyes glint occasionally, then right now there's something in Tsuna’s that makes the teacher in Reborn want to set it aflame. “What does it mean? Not the word or the direct translation, obviously, but in context.”

Leon turns back into chameleon-form and scurries up his arm to settle on his shoulder. He is aware as he returns Tsuna’s steady look that this is, on some level, a test. Will he be vulnerable? Will he trust them in the same way he asks to be trusted?

“A curse,” Reborn replies simply. “And one I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.”

“Is Rokudo Mukuro behind the recent attacks?” Keiko interrupts, and for that - for redirecting their attention from the memories filled with fire and pain and betrayal - Reborn is grateful.

“Most likely,” he says, and wishes he had a gun. Leon curls his tail around his neck, steadying. “The Disciplinary Committee’s and Sasagawa’s attackers wore Kokuyo uniforms, and the attackers match the description of those that escaped with Rokudo.”

At the mention of Sasagawa’s attack, Tsuna deflates, Takeshi crosses his arms in front of his chest, Gokudera scowls. Reborn… doesn’t feel bad, per se, but there is something about Tsuna slumping his shoulders and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes that makes him say, “We may have some time, Tsuna, if you don’t feel ready.”

Before Tsuna can answer there’s the chime of a ringtone, and the gathered kids scramble to check their phones to see who’s calling. Reborn glances at Leon, who flicks his tongue out to taste the air.

In the end it’s Keiko that holds her phone to her ear. She doesn’t greet the person on the other end, nor say anything; seconds pass by, tense and waiting as all eyes turn to her, and she is sitting too far away and the other party is speaking too quietly for Reborn to eavesdrop.

Then she says, “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” and hangs up. She stares at her phone for another moment before tucking it away.

When she looks up, Tsuna and Takeshi straighten. Gokudera tenses, reading the air and the mood with all the desperation-laced skill of a Mafia child turned street rat.

“We’ve run out of time,” Keiko says, and her words are sharp and bitten-off; “Tetsuya-kun’s been attacked. He’s missing four teeth. Kyouya has stormed Kokuyo in order to find the culprit.”

Reborn glances at Tsuna, sees him pressing his lips together, sees Gokudera and Takeshi out of the corner of his eye about to say something. He cuts them both off by pulling down the brim of his fedora to shade his eyes. “Tsuna?”

“No. Yes.” He pauses, taking the time to breathe; the room breathes with him. “No more. I want to end this today. If it’s me they’re after, it’s me they’ll get.”

Reborn hop onto his student’s shoulder, redirecting the attention and the ire to himself. “Then get ready to move, Tsuna, and pray that you’re prepared.”

**(- - -)**

They’re not two blocks away from Tsuna’s house when Keiko stiffens, and the entire group stalls with her. A phone call wouldn’t have provoked that kind of a reaction, and Reborn would have heard it, anyway. It’s not a text, because Keiko isn’t pulling out her phone.

Instead she looks down the street where a dark-haired dark-eyed and glasses-wearing high school girl is waving, and frowns.

“Is that Eri-san?” Takeshi squints, raising the hand that’s not resting on the hilt of the practice sword shoved through his belt to shade his eyes against the mid-day sun. “Aneki -”

Keiko squeezes Tsuna’s shoulder, a quick movement that’s there-and-gone. “Take care of yourself,” she says. Then she’s gone, power-walking down the street.

“Yamamoto-san -” Gokudera starts, then cuts himself off with a click of his tongue. He looks merely annoyed, but he’s pale. “Juudaime, if you want to finish this today -”

“I do. I want to.” Tsuna takes another deep breath in, then out; Reborn stays on his toes, allowing the movement to rock through them both. “Let’s go.”

Takeshi looks unhappy but relents, and so does Gokudera. With the absence of Yamamoto Keiko the group becomes quieter, tenser; they walk and Reborn glances at the streets around them from beneath the brim of his fedora and without moving his head, gauging distances, hiding places, sniper positions.

“Senpai explained to me,” Tsuna says very quietly, only loud enough for Reborn to hear, “about the seal.”

Reborn pauses. Then, carefully, he asks just as quietly: “What was it like?”

‘What’ exactly, he does not specify. But Tsuna slows down anyway, letting Takeshi and Gokudera go farther ahead, and carefully does not look at Reborn.

“Like I was drowning. Or like I was suffocating, and the walls were closing in, and everything was covered in fog and sounds were muffled and like my hands weren't my hands, really.”

Without the seal, Reborn has to reevaluate every single thing about the boy, every single one of their interactions. But that Tsuna has come this far is a testament to both his Will and that of those around him. He tries, he scores average on his tests, he can take a hit in a boxing spar and dole them out with some amount of success. His Sky Flames are sluggish and sleepy - unsurprising, given the number of years they’d spent sealed - but still almost tangible, still lurking beneath his skin.

And yet he is nowhere near where he needs to be, both to survive as a Vongola Decimo candidate as well as to hold his own against Rokudo Mukuro.

 _Merde_.

Reborn cannot squeeze Tsuna’s shoulder like this, but he leans in close enough to feel the warmth from his skin anyway.

**(- - -)**

They don’t even make it to Kokuyo; they are only halfway there, in fact, when some of Rokudo’s described subordinates corner them in an alleyway shortcut with their killing intent leaking into the air.

The one in front hones in on Smoking Bomb, who slides forward to place himself in front of Tsuna. “Gokudera Hayato,” Chikusa Kakimoto intones; his voice is dull, flat. It’s not the voice of someone with a personality but rather sounds like just something that makes sounds, and Leon slips into Reborn’s hand and transforms into a gun. “You’re next on the list.”

“Get back,” Takeshi mutters to Tsuna, settling immediately behind Gokudera. Tsuna opens his mouth, most likely to protest, and Reborn is tempted to shoot Chikusa here and now, Nono’s orders be damned; he hasn’t even been able to leverage his newfound peace with Yamamoto Keiko yet, hasn’t even shot a Dying Will Bullet into Tsuna, and even the Boxing Captain Sasagawa Ryohei had been left pummeled into a bloody mess without, it seems, much effort on his attacker’s parts.

 _Weak civilian teenagers_ , Reborn reminds himself, even as he wishes he could bodily drag Tsuna to a safer distance. Chikusa doesn't even seem to notice, as dead-eyed focused as he is on Gokudera. 

“Where is the Vongola Decimo?” he asks.

From this angle Reborn can’t see either of the teenage Guardian candidates’ faces, but he can imagine the grim line on Takeshi’s lips and the snarl on Gokudera’s. “Like hell I’d tell you!”

Gokudera has his dynamites; Takeshi had picked up a wooden practice sword before they’d left, which he has been learning his father’s style with for an indeterminate amount of time. Keiko, wherever she’s gone, has her wooden shinai strapped to her waist, and he knows that she can be perfectly lethal with that.

Against, Reborn remembers, one of the most dangerous teenagers that the _Cosa Nostra_ has ever produced and three of Rokudo’s hand-picked men. 

Tsuna isn’t ready. He’s only had his Flames unsealed last week, and though he and Sasagawa and Keiko had drilled and physically trained him mercilessly for as long and as hard as they could, Tsuna _isn’t ready_.

Reborn is going to kill Rokudo Mukuro himself at this rate.

( _When did you get so protective?_ a part of him asks himself, and Reborn pushes the thought away because now is definitely _not the time_.)

“Gokudera Hayato,” Chikusa says. Reborn tightens his trigger finger on his Leon-gun. “Yamamoto Takeshi. It does not matter. We will keep attacking the next strongest male student in Namimori Middle until we find the Vongola Decimo.”

Namimori Middle. Reborn is still on Tsuna’s shoulder, and his eyes cut across Tsuna’s fluffy hair to where Keiko last stood in thought even as the teenagers and men throw themselves into battle. So, not the rest of the town? Not the rest of the schools?

“How does he know who we are?” Tsuna murmurs, and thank the gods he sounds distracted enough that he won’t go charging in self-sacrificially in order to spare Gokudera and Takeshi the fight that is happening. “And - and ‘next strongest male’? That’s as sexist as anything, but the rest… it… it’s almost like… like he ranked us.” He turns his eyes away from the sparks starting to fly from dynamite and practice sword on Chikusa’s yo-yos and the lackeys’ knives. “Reborn?”

Reborn answers on auto-pilot. “Most likely Fuuta de la Stella. He was last known to be moving towards Asia.”

Tsuna blinks, startled, then thoughtful. Is it the infamous Vongola Intuition? Reborn suspects it had helped him, when he had set up the test that was supposed to simulate a first kill. But the sudden paling of Tsuna’s face has Reborn turning back to the fight.

Chikusa is gaining ground with every attack using his yo-yos, his eyes as blank as ever but his accuracy deadly precise, and the others - they must be no-names, picked up off the street or hired for this sole purpose, because Reborn doesn’t recognize any of them and he had made sure to memorize the dossier that Nono had uploaded - are lunging in and drawing blood where they can.

“Where is the Vongola Decimo?” he asks again, and even as Takeshi snarls there’s a spray of needles that whips across Gokudera’s cheek and immediately draws blood, deeper than any other gash that the Italian has gained in the last few minutes.

Tsuna surges forward, then. “Gokudera-kun!”

Chikusa turns towards Tsuna as if he’s being controlled by wires and not by flesh and bone; the others still briefly in their attacks. “Sawada Tsunayoshi,” he says, and he sounds like he’s reciting something by memory. “Weakest male student in Namimori Middle. Possibility of being the Vongola Decimo: close to nil.” He flicks his wrist, retrieving his yo-yos for another attack.

“Actually,” Tsuna interrupts, and his voice is quiet and shaking and fierce and this is nothing, absolutely nothing like what Iemitsu described and absolutely everything that Tsuna should have been, should have grown into without the damned seal, and Reborn can practically taste the potential in him even as he wraps his free hand around Tsuna’s hair and _pulls_. “I am the Vongola Decimo. So leave them alone. Leave _everyone_ alone.”

“Juudai- Tsuna!” Gokudera looks like he would curse if he had the breath to spare. “Run!”

There’s a pause. Reborn feels the urge to shoot _Gokudera_ , instead, though Takeshi certainly seems upset enough to run him through with his practice sword first. Tsuna stays, though Reborn’s tightening grip in his hair must surely start to hurt. His student actually starts to warm, something that he can feel thanks to his position on Tsuna’s shoulder and with how close he is to his skin.

Chikusa turns just his neck this time, and his glasses glint. “Mukuro-sama will be pleased.”

Everyone seems to move at once, after that. Gokudera throws his dynamite with increased fervor and desperation; Chikusa throws his yo-yos, fistfuls of needles aimed at eyes and throats; Takeshi leaps backward to cover Tsuna as best as he can; the three hitmen move forward, and Reborn checks his aim and increases his pressure on the trigger; and the ground shakes, as if something heavy is running towards them.

In the next moment, something is bodily tackling Takeshi to the ground. Reborn can only see blond hair and movement on all fours, thinks, _Ken Joshima_ , before it rears up to bare its teeth at Tsuna’s face.

Tsuna, very calmly, punches it in the groin.

There is not the physical outburst of Flame, like Keiko had done. Instead there’s only something subtle and steady, like a promise, like a sunrise. As close as he is, Reborn can sense it and it rings in his teeth.

 _Dying Will Mode_ ; it’s a thought that’s almost a background as he points and shoots - _one, two, three_ , it’s not interfering if they’re no-name scum that happened to pick the wrong job - except for the way that Tsuna’s Sky Flames are resonating.

And when he looks, the boy’s eyes are tinted orange.

Tsuna has done it, has done it _without_ the Dying Will Bullet, and in that singular moment Reborn feels prouder than he perhaps has any right to of this lanky, scruffy, terrible _brat_ who doesn’t have any sense of self-preservation. If Reborn had been told that his newest student would be capable of this before he’d come to Namimori, he’d have laughed in their face if he was feeling kind and shot them if he hadn’t.

He’s already seen two impossibilities in the last week; why not one more?

(But the real question is, why does Tsuna feel that he must act with his Dying Will _here_?)

Ken’s goes down and Chikusa’s movements become halting, for a moment, and Takeshi and Gokudera take the opening for what it is and knock them both out. Reborn flicks his gaze from the two teenagers that had been shut away in Vendicare with Rokudo Mukuro to the no-name lackeys and steadies his hand to empty another clip into the bodies, just in case.

But Tsuna raises a hand in front of the Leon-gun and Reborn finds that he cannot shoot.

“Who were they, Reborn?” Tsuna asks, and his voice rings in the sudden silence. Takeshi and Gokudera are breathing hard, bleeding and battered, but seem well enough. Tsuna frowns as he sees their injuries, the orange edge to his eyes faltering before smoothing out again, and turns that frown to Reborn.

“Chikusa Kakimoto and Ken Joshima.” Reborn doesn’t lower Leon. “Two of Rokudo’s lackeys. If you won’t kill them, Tsuna, _I will_.”

“I will as well, Juudaime,” Gokudera follows, and to his credit doesn’t startle when Tsuna turns his head to him. From his angle Reborn can’t see Tsuna’s face but Takeshi leans back from it, just a little, the perpetual upwards tilt to his lips straightened into something flatter. “If we don’t stop them here, they’ll keep coming back.”

“They’ll hurt someone else, Tsuna,” Takeshi adds. His voice is equally as quiet, and he holds his bloody practice sword loosely in his hand. “They’ll hurt bystanders so that they can hurt you.”

Tsuna, in the face of the World’s Greatest Hitman and the Cosa Nostra’s Smoking Bomb and his best friend telling him what he should do, does not bend. Instead he says, still deadly quiet, “I will not kill simply because it’s the easiest thing to do.”

There is a pause. There has been a lot of that today, if Reborn is being honest, but this one feels like the most important one. Tsuna’s gaze is challenging when he locks it on first Takeshi, then Gokudera; and if Reborn hadn’t been on his shoulder, he suspects that the boy would have turned it on him, too.

Gokudera Hayato is the first to bend, putting away his dynamite with a scowl and with something hurt-concerned-respectful about him. Reborn is not surprised; he may be the Left Hand and might have spent weeks with Tsuna, but he is still unsure of his place. Still afraid that one wrong move, one major or even minor disagreement will throw him out into the cold.

Yamamoto Takeshi meets Tsuna’s gaze for a long, long moment. Slowly, without looking away, he wipes away the blood on his wooden sword with one of their opponent’s shirts and rises to his feet to tuck it into his belt. “If you’re sure.”

There are cruel parts of Reborn, he will freely admit, and those parts add onto the end of Takeshi’s sentence that _The consequences will be on your head_ ; but he doesn’t think that’s what Takeshi meant. Of course, what exactly he _had_ meant is yet unclear - the youngest Yamamoto is truly a natural hitman, if anything - but by the slight slumping in Tsuna’s shoulders, he knows anyway.

Gokudera and Takeshi turn to Reborn, then, and the green gun in his hand. He raises both eyebrows at their respective scowl and flat expression, making sure to communicate that he is _unimpressed_ with their attempts to intimidate the World’s Greatest Hitman. Leon changes form, though, and he raises his hand to let the chameleon in his natural skin sit on the brim of his fedora.

“Thank you,” Tsuna murmurs, almost too quiet to be heard; but Gokudera huffs and Takeshi breaks out in a reluctant half-grin and Reborn finally lets go of his death-grip on his student’s hair.

Unsealed, steel-spined, and determined. Leagues better than how his last student, safely back in Italy to return to Cavallone business, had started; and yet.

Reborn doesn’t get to finish that thought, because there is the sudden chill of Flame and a tsunami of indigo that overwhelms them all, and he is hanging onto his student with all this tiny, infantile, _cursed_ body has got when his vision winks out and he’s tossed into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the ones who supported me and this fic for the last four years: this one's for you.
> 
> I wrote this chapter from scratch in the last four days, cleaned it, edited it, waffled over it, and finally decided to post it. I've forgotten just how much I planned for _Seiryuu_ over the years, and when I look back I can see the foreshadowing for completely different plot points than I'd remembered starting with. Hindsight is 20/20, I suppose.
> 
> Comments are my lifeblood and my motivation and I love them all dearly!


	12. 07. the spark ignites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some secrets come to light, but others retreat into obscurity. Keep your eyes open, pay attention, and stoke the fire. You’ll need it when the shadows creep closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rokudo Mukuro appears in this chapter, so please be warned of his general brand of insanity. There shouldn't be anything too graphic, but if you'd still like to be sure, please check the ending note for spoilers and brief warnings.

He wakes up in chains with Gokudera and Takeshi to either side of him, still bloody and also tied up, Leon a glaring absence at his side. Even without his partner, though, he could burn through both the Mist still in his body and the steel on him and then step out into the center of this run-down auditorium room that has definitely seen better days to where Tsuna is, collapsed face-down, and -

 _I am_ , Reborn thinks somewhat distantly, _definitely Flame drunk_.

He discreetly slithers out of his bonds instead, leaving the chains intact, but remains where he is to allow whoever kidnapped them to think they have the upperhand. Afterwards there is nothing else to do - if he is being watched, they are not in the room, and neither is anything surveillance related - so he waits, and he thinks.

He knows he is fixating. He knows it as surely as he knows himself, which is pretty damn well; he has to, in order to be as resistant to Mist as he is. And yet, he addresses himself grimly, he is still thinking about questioning Yamamoto Keiko. About why she left early, and why she took Takei Eri with her; why she calls the resident Hibari “Kyouya,” and not “Hibari-san” as her brother and kouhai does; why her Rain, in the brief moment he could sense it, had felt cold and drowning and only had slivers of what he believes is Sky.

(He knows Dino Cavallone, he knows Sawada Tsunayoshi, and he knows their Flames. What he does not know is Yamamoto Keiko, and Reborn has lived long enough to know that a lack of knowledge will _kill_.)

But distraction by fixation does not explain why he’d passed out. He’s the damn Sun Arcobaleno, for God’s sake; if he is cursed, then the one advantage that would _maybe_ make up for it means that even if he didn’t know himself well enough to be resistant to Mist illusions, his Sun Flames could burn through them.

They hadn’t, this time. And, he considers, there must be a reason that Rokudo Mukuro is the only prisoner who has been able to evade the damn _Vindice_ for this long, and to break out in the first place.

The thought doesn’t help.

**(- - -)**

They don’t need to wait long, at least. Gokudera and Takeshi don’t stir, tired as they are from their previous fight, but Tsuna wakes up less than ten minutes in and jolts to his knees in one movement.

He comes up looking directly at them, Reborn-Gokudera-Takeshi tied up against the wall, and he almost falls before catching himself on his hands. “Takeshi! Gokudera, what -”

Someone walks in, then, from the far-side entrance. Tall, lanky, slicked-back dark hair; the one that dossiers say is Rokudo Mukuro. Tsuna raises his head to track his progress into the room, and he stiffens.

“I didn’t expect the Vongola Decimo to be this pathetic,” he says, now close enough to circle Tsuna in a predatory cant. Reborn feels the urge to shoot the man, but waits. “You were so easily knocked out. All the easier for me to kill you, I suppose.”

“Why do you want to, though?” Tsuna asks, and his voice doesn’t shake. Against the wall and with Tsuna’s head turned away, Reborn can’t see his eyes, but he suspects there’s an orange gleam to them. “What did I, a civilian, ever do to you?”

He thinks that Rokudo won’t answer, but the moment passes and suddenly the Vindice’s most wanted man is shouting, “You _existed_!” with seemingly lost composure.

The nearest side door opens and closes just long enough for two figures to shift in; Chikusa and Ken. Reborn feigns being asleep with his eyes open to keep them in his peripheral vision as they slowly make their way to their positions, Chikusa settling near Takeshi and Ken at Tsuna’s back.

Rokudo talks over his subordinates’ entrance. “Have you ever heard of the Estraneo? I’m guessing not,” he adds, continuing over Tsuna’s start of a sentence that no, he hasn’t, because Reborn had covered many things in their lessons on Cosa Nostra history but they have not yet reached the last few decades. “Because the Vongola wouldn’t want their _precious little heir_ to have such a soiled view of the kingdom he’s inheriting. That even the Cosa Nostra, who is infamous for being the lowest of the low, would stoop to experimentation on babes.”

“...what?” Tsuna says finally. There’s a crack to the end of his voice, and Reborn breathes in, deeply, because for all this Flame drunk and addled mess he is still the World’s Greatest Hitman and the advantage of surprise is too great for it to be lost on a petty a thing as _shooting someone who deserves it_.

There’s a sneer on Rokudo’s face that Reborn can even see from here when he sings out, “It’s the Vongola’s fault that I suffered at Estraneo’s hands, and for that I will see all of the mafia _burn_.”

There’s a Mist that’s rising from the floor of the room. Tsuna stills. Reborn readies himself to leap into the coming fight, because Nono’s orders mean nothing in the face of his _unready student_ taking on a man that has gone against the self-proclaimed Police of the Cosa Nostra and is _winning_.

Then the ceiling drops in, and Hibari Kyouya drops in with it.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that,” the boy purrs out, and he sounds excited regardless of his torn school uniform and sluggish bleeding through his bandages. Behind him, almost unmentioned, Yamamoto Keiko drops in lightly on her feet, and behind _her_ the same dark-haired dark-eyed girl from before that had drawn her away tumbles down and into a ready crouch, a young boy shivering in her arms. Bianchi, oddly, impossibly, brings up the rear.

**(- - -)**

(He will hear the full story from Keiko later, of how she had found Hibari where Rokudo had dumped him with her friend’s help and freed him with Bianchi’s, when the woman had left Sawada Nana and the children in a safe house and asked what else there was to be done. Keiko had also been, it turns out, the one to additionally temper Hibari’s decision to immediately pursue Rokudo, citing his injuries.

There is a yellow bird sitting in her hair as she explains, and when she notices his attention on it she clarifies that they’d been attacked by twins wielding daggers and a man in a top hat who could control birds.

Reborn eyes the so-called Hibird in suspicion, recalling the Bloody Twins and Birds from the dossier, and the bird has the gall to chirp at him for it.)

**(- - -)**

Keiko engages Ken Joshima as Tsuna throws himself at Rokudo in single-minded determination, and Takei Eri and Bianchi slip behind them both in Reborn’s direction. He sees Chikusa reaching for his yo-yos, but he is not the World’s Greatest Hitman for nothing; in the absence of Leon he pulls out his spare pistol and shoots the boy in the leg, and then the lower back.

Hibari throws himself at _some_ thing in the shadows, which reveals itself: a boy dressed in Kokuyo Middle’s clothes and looking for all the world as if he is about to head to school, except for the way Mist coils around his hand and constructs a trident.

Takeshi stirs awake in the growing commotion, though it takes Bianchi slapping Gokudera for the latter to stir. Both of them jolt in surprise, then panic, as they reach for missing weapons and find none and yet still are centimeters away from hurling themselves bodily into the fight between Rokudo and Tsuna.

Which is what Reborn had wanted, when he’d been choosing Guardian candidates: people who would not hesitate to protect their Sky. But this is a conflict where full-blooded _mafioso_ had failed, that the _Vindice_ had failed, and here Tsuna is fighting it.

“You can’t kill people who were innocent of it!” he’s shouting between ducking beneath the massive ball-and-chain Rokudo is throwing around. “You can’t-”

“Says you, a privileged, foolish _child_ ,” Rokudo hisses. He reels in his chain until his hand meets the heavy metal ball and doesn't even look tired, when Tsuna looks like a hard wind might knock him over. “A bystander is complicit. They saw and _they did nothing_.”

Takei tosses Takeshi his wooden sword, now bloody, and hands Gokudera a gun. There’s another one strapped to the small of her back that Reborn can see when she moves and that the boy - Fuuta de la Stella, he recognizes - carefully leaves her easy access to. “Last I saw,” Takei says to Reborn, her voice empty of any condescension that strangers usually give him, “your chameleon was still with Kei-chan.”

Keiko finishes by smashing the hilt of her sword into Ken Joshima’s temple hard enough to leave him slumped on the floor. When she turns, they can see the bleeding from her ears and torn holes in her clothing. She gives a wave, though, that Takei returns, and her brother Takeshi sluggishly.

Gokudera has both of his hands wrapped around his gun, but he doesn’t aim it in Rokudo’s direction; and if he had, Reborn would have knocked him out, anyway. Tsuna might be flagging but it’s still too dangerous to send a bullet into that mess of shouting and blood and wind.

And then Tsuna gets in close enough to break Rokudo’s nose, and both he and the Kokuyo boy stagger.

“You’re wrong,” Tsuna says flatly. He turns to the boy even as Hibari strikes him down with a vengeance and a snarl, and there it is again: Dying Will. “I will not kill because it’s the easiest thing to do, and no matter anyone’s crimes, _I won’t let anyone else do it, either_.”

Rokudo, if he’s even Rokudo, doesn’t get back up, but the Kokuyo student drags Mist about himself and reappears on the auditorium stage, and he grins. There’s a gun in his hand, and he levels it at Yamamoto Keiko.

Tsuna freezes. Interestingly enough, Hibari freezes too, his face locked into a snarl.

“I dug through your brain while you were passed out,” the Kokuyo student says, and Keiko visibly grits her teeth, uncaring of the gun pointed at her head, of Takei biting down swears and pulling out her own gun, of Hibari readying his tonfas again.

He must be the true Rokudo Mukuro, then, because Reborn cannot, _will not_ believe that the man who has terrorized even the bogeymen that make up the Cosa Nostra would be so easily defeated by an untrained boy that is only on his feet by virtue of Dying Will, and he is enough of a paranoid bastard to admit it.

Reborn tells himself it is because he still has answers to seek from Keiko that he brings up his own gun in defense of her, and nothing else.

Rokudo smiles without looking away from Tsuna. “I know of her importance to you. And really, do any of you think that I would hesitate from pulling the trigger?” he adds when Hibari twitches. “That a bullet would mean anything to me?”

Behind him, there is the baying of dogs as the shadows writhe and hounds surge out of them; to Reborn they look washed-out and the sounds are vague, distorted. To everyone else here, though, they must seem tangible and real, because Gokudera and Takeshi and Bianchi all flinch and Takei Eri holds her breath as the illusions stalk toward them, Fuuta de la Stella clutching her tighter. Hibari merely eyes them as if they are more targets to take his frustrations out on, now that Rokudo has a hostage.

Keiko stares at Rokudo, unafraid.

“What do you want?” Tsuna asks finally. He sounds tired, and he looks it, too, all bloodied and muscles unconsciously trembling, but he does not move in the face of the hounds circling around him, baring teeth.

“Tsuna -” Keiko starts, but is interrupted.

“I want your body to destroy the Vongola with; such sweet irony, wouldn’t you say?” Rokudo’s smile stretches to a size larger than human lips should be able to reach, and the result is definitively disconcerting.

“Juudaime,” Gokudera calls out, even as Takeshi shouts, “Tsuna,” and Reborn opens his mouth to say something -

But his student is nodding, and then Rokudo withdraws his arm and shoots himself in the head.

Reborn doesn’t put down his gun, still suspicious of the Mist dissipating into the air and taking the illusions with them, but looks over to Tsuna. The boy’s face is a picture of shock; then he starts clawing at his throat, his eyes.

Hibari stalks over to Rokudo’s body, even as Gokudera and Takeshi rush over to Tsuna. Reborn looks at them, looks at Keiko, who is still and considering, looks at Hibari who is hitting Rokudo’s body a few more times, looks at where Takei makes her way over to her friend and Bianchi who hovers over Tsuna next to him, confused and concerned.

It’s when Tsuna says, “What the - get the hell _out_ -” that he fully understands what’s going on.

“A Possession Bullet,” Reborn states flatly, and Bianchi hisses through her teeth. Takeshi is too concerned making sure that Tsuna isn’t injuring himself to look over, but Gokudera does, and his gaze is demanding. He can feel Keiko’s eyes staring a hole into the back of his head. “Rokudo is in Tsuna right now, trying to control his body.”

“You can’t - what’re you _doing_ -”

“Is there anything we can do?” Gokudera asks. He looks and sounds desperate, and on his knees looks additionally as if he is considering prayer. “Is there -”

“ _SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP -_ ”

“I can’t,” Reborn admits, and it tastes like blood and soot in his mouth. “If I pry the bullet out of Rokudo it might work, but it might also trap him in with Tsuna. We can’t risk it. Tsuna has to do it.”

They all wait for another uneasy half-minute before, finally, his student lights up like a Goddamned _bonfire_.

**(- - -)**

It’s a few long minutes after that, where Tsuna catches his breath and Keiko hands him Leon, who has apparently decided to become a cocoon in the short time that they were separated. Reborn would scowl at the chameleon if he weren’t his partner.

(The man that Vongola Nono had introduced as Rokudo Mukuro admits to be Lancia, who thanks Tsuna for breaking the possession in a voice that holds reverence and gratefulness equally, and Reborn does end up scowling at that for the few moments that no one is looking at him.)

Instead Reborn walks over to the gun that Rokudo had dropped - eyes Hibari who is now lingering towards the back, near the exits, and would have seemed annoyed at the now-large crowd if he wasn’t at Keiko’s back and not allowing anyone else to be there - and ejects the entire clip, pocketing the bullets. He’ll get rid of the rest of the Possession Bullets later, in a furnace or a vat of acid or something equally potent. There are some things even he, a morally reprehensible man who kills other people for a living, doesn’t do.

“I am the Vongola Decimo,” Tsuna says when he finally faces Rokudo - the real one - again. His voice does not shake but his hands do, and the orange edge to his eyes are faltering.

Keiko tilts her head. “Are you the Decimo,” she asks quietly, “or the candidate?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rokudo snarls from where he’s tied up kneeling, spitting mad. “Decimo or candidate, I will still possess you.”

“Shut up for a moment,” Keiko says, and when Rokudo shifts to move Reborn raises his pistol to shoot a hole in the wall an inch from his head. “You called yourself the Decimo, Tsuna. But you don’t want to be a Don. I know that. You know that. Everyone you’ve ever talked to knows that. So what changed?”

Tsuna looks at her like she holds all the answers, and Reborn feels a grim twist to his lips pass his face for a split second. He is supposed to be the tutor, and yet he is years late; he is supposed to hammer steel into Sawada Tsunayoshi’s spine, and yet allowed a seal on his Flames to remain; he is supposed to mold him into the heir and Decimo that the Vongola need, and yet here he is, allowing Yamamoto Keiko to walk his student through the decision.

“No matter what I say,” Tsuna whispers finally, “people are going to get hurt because of it. So I might as well accept it, and _use_ it.”

“You admitted you were the Decimo, when Beanie first came looking,” Takeshi interjects, and his eyes are wide. “Even though you’d never done that while the kid was teaching you.”

“I’m not going to lead the _Vongola_ , because they’re the ones that - that ruined everything.” The Dying Will comes back, and Tsuna’s hands steady, and they are wreathed in the faintest flicker of orange flames. “They’re the ones that fucked over Rokudo-san and his friends and a lot of other people, and they have a lot to answer for. If saying I’m the heir is going to let me protect people, I’m going to do it. If saying I’m the heir means I can change it, then I’m going do it.”

Tsuna’s forehead catches fire, and the ones that know what that means - Gokudera, Bianchi, Lancia - look as if they’re moments away from kneeling in awe. Rokudo, when Reborn looks over to him, looks as if he has simultaneously just swallowed a lemon and found something that he intends on dissecting, and Reborn shifts to make sure he still has line-of-sight of a killshot with his pistol.

“I will change the Vongola,” Tsuna declares, “or I’ll destroy it.”

“Then I will possess you,” Rokudo says into the silence, “and laugh as I kill your _precious people_ using your body.”

“That’s enough of that,” Keiko huffs, one eyebrow raised.

Anything that Rokudo is about to say in response to that pales in comparison to the rip in the air that opens up and allows several bandaged figures in smoking robes to step through.

**(- - -)**

“You can’t take them.”

The Vindice do not freeze, but there is a distinct lack of movement. Out of the corner of his eye, Reborn can see Gokudera pale.

 _Rokudo_ freezes. “Why would you -” he starts, even as he’s cut off by the Vindice turning towards Tsuna, chains rattling ominously.

“You would have us delay justice?”

“How is it justice,” Tsuna retorts, still in full Dying Will Mode, “when your accused are victims and they've simply been lashing out without knowing what else to do? That’s victim-blaming, and that’s disgusting. No one should be punished because they suffered and didn't receive the correct support afterwards to learn better.”

Keiko, when Reborn glances at her, looks both pained and proud. Beside her, Takei Eri seems solemn and intrigued.

“Regardless.” The chains look like they would hiss, if they could. “They broke the law. They will be taken into custody, and they will serve the rest of their sentence.”

“Is it a valid sentence if the initial ruling was flawed?”

At _that_ \- at the insinuation that they might have been wrong - the Vindice turn as a group, and if they had been regular humans they might have drawn themselves up. As it is Reborn can’t see any change of expression beneath the bandages but he can certainly feel it: killing intent. By the paleness of Tsuna’s face he can feel it, too, but he holds steady. He holds his ground.

Then Takei Eri steps up - civilian, associate of Yamamoto Keiko, student of Midori High - and says, with her hands in her pockets and her gun tucked into the small of her back, “Let’s negotiate.”

**(- - -)**

(Eri, Keiko admits later to Reborn with chagrin and a hesitant Fuuta de la Stella clinging to her, is studying to be a lawyer and planning on attending an overseas law school that is known for its rigorous education and extremely exclusive admissions process.

He thinks of the girl, of her straight spine and perfect posture and ruthless negotiation with the Vindice using a mix of civilian law and Cosa Nostra sensibility, and is reluctantly impressed.)

**(- - -)**

Chikusa Kakimoto and Ken Joshima and even M.M., the sole girl of the group, refuse to leave Rokudo Mukuro alone.

“You’re being used, can’t you see it?” Tsuna almost cries. There is frustration, yes, but also desperation laced in with it, and Reborn wants to shoot Chikusa again, who had been the first to declare a negative, especially now when Tsuna is responsible for them and the Vindice will come after _him_ if Rokudo or his lackeys misbehave.

But it’s Ken that says, with a smile, “Better to be used than to be unwanted.”

**(- - -)**

Yamamoto Tsuyoshi’s daughter comes home with two bleeding ears, a cracked rib, a gash deep enough to need weeks to heal, and countless bruises. Reborn suspects the man would threaten him with a knife again if he weren’t equally as livid - for slightly different reasons, perhaps, but still enough that the sushi chef backs off.

Having a fourth child in the house seems to simmer him down, anyway, and Reborn can at least find the humor in that: a Rain needing to _simmer down_ , instead of being the one to encourage others to do so.

(Fuuta de la Stella is an anomaly wrapped up in an advantage bundled with several degrees of paranoia, anxiety, and what Reborn suspects to be trauma. Which is fair, in all respects; the boy is renowned throughout several different criminal societies and even in a few of the more legitimate institutions. An ability like his would be invaluable if weaponized, after all.

Though according to a quiet Keiko talking to a worried Tsuna, Fuuta had been held captive and forced to work with Rokudo after he’d ranked the people in Namimori to include the person most likely to protect him.

Reborn looks to Tsuna, talking to him quietly, and then to Keiko, who stays within the boy’s line of sight and can soothe him with a word or a gesture, and wonders which one the boy’s ranking had informed him would be the best to plead sanctuary from.)

**(- - -)**

Everyone has a past; where they’re from; where they’re going. And though he’d done his best to erase it or to make everyone else simply forget it, Reborn is no exception.

That night, he dreams of it.

(The weight of the Sun Pacifier might be heavy in the way he imagines objects holding the fabric of the universe together must be, but there is also the fire-hurt-betrayal, the realization that he is irrevocably changed, that his old body, his old _life_ , is lost to him, and paranoia is only one reason why Reborn sleeps with his eyes open.)

When he wakes, he heads to the small hidden room he’d built into Tsuna’s, where everything is Arcobaleno-sized and made for an Arcobaleno’s comfort. There is a sensor suite there advanced enough to rival any Famiglia’s security system, which he’d connected to all of the surveillance cameras that he’d installed throughout Namimori and that had not been destroyed, and he pulls up the live feed for Takesushi.

Yamamoto Keiko is formidable, but so are those that she associates herself with: Hibari Kyouya, Takei Eri, and now Fuuta de la Stella, who has refused to be separated from her unless it’s Takei or Hibari doing the separating. Judging from such a pattern Matsuoka Satomi must be outstanding as well, he considers, in some way that is not on her official or unofficial dossier.

The hair rises on the back of Reborn’s neck at that.

(He wants to ask Keiko _so many questions_ : How had she activated her Rain Flames? If she knows about the slivers in them? Where she learned to conceal it so that even he, the World’s Strongest Hitman, had difficulty sensing them without a moment of complete stillness and access where -

He is the World’s Greatest Hitman; he has perfect control over his reactions. Reborn does not still, but he feels the urge to.

A moment of complete stillness and access where the opposite party, at least on some level, trusted him.)

**(- - -)**

There is only one way to silence the questioning voice in the back of his head that fixates on mysteries.

**(- - -)**

Reborn is about to ask, but before he can he stumbles upon Yamamoto Keiko and Takei Eri having a conversation while on, of all things, the roof of Takesushi.

“ _This_ was your biggest secret?” Takei asks. She sounds incredulous, weary, and exasperated in turns. “God, Keiko, I thought you were hiding drugs or something.”

Keiko sputters. “What - where - no, _God_ no, Eri, where the hell did you get that idea from?”

“Drugs made more sense than you joining, I don’t know, the yakuza or the damn _Cosa Nostra_!”

“First of all,” Keiko interjects, “I didn’t _join_ them, per se. It’s just…”

Takei crosses her arms over her chest. “Your cute kouhai being the heir to the most powerful family in the Italian underworld?”

Keiko does not flinch. Takei eyes her, and eventually sighs. “How do you even get into these messes?”

“Don’t ask me, I’m not the one that caused the Scorched Earth Incident when Satomi got pissed at Takishita -”

“Okay, okay, that’s playing dirty, it wasn’t my fault, _Takishita_ apologized, and Satomi -”

“Was Satomi.” The both of them, interestingly, sigh at that.

There’s silence, and it’s surprisingly comfortable. Reborn rocks back onto his heels on the branch he’s settled on, eavesdropping, and looks up at the sky. There’s a number of stars out, thanks to Namimori’s small-town status and distance away from the larger cities that would interfere with their light pollution. A benefit to tutoring while in the middle of nowhere, he reflects with no small amount of wry amusement.

Eventually Takei says, “I’m going to have to step up my time on the range,” and she sounds resigned to it.

Keiko _does_ sputter, then. “ _You’re_ going to - no. No, I won’t -”

“What, let me?” Takei leans forward to put her chin on her fist, and even at this angle Reborn can see that those eyes are sharp behind her glasses. “You know you can’t stop me, just like you can’t stop Satomi.”

“...still, this isn’t -”

“I swear by all that is holy if you say _not your fight_ I’m going to kick you off this roof.”

Keiko eyes Takei, then, who doesn’t back down. Reborn finds himself holding his breath along with her.

“You and Satomi and me, five days a week on the range.”

It’s Takei that groans. “What, not even three? And I thought Hibari-chan was keeping you occupied?”

Reborn stills. Hibari- _chan_? He’s seen the boy in action, and there is no way that he’d _ever_ use an honorific for him that’s meant to be cute, regardless of whether he’s present or not.

“He and I are pretty evenly matched, nowadays,” Keiko says, and if she notices Takei’s usage of suffixes then she conceals any surprise very well, “so he’s pretty content with the one spar a week. If _you_ two, on the other hand, are going to insist on joining this hell in a handbasket, then I’m insisting on it.”

“Fine, fine.” Takei flaps a hand. “I’ll do it, you damn ungodly taskmaster.”

“And,” Keiko adds quietly, “if he’s willing, Reborn as well.”

She looks over to his tree, eyes sharp and seeking out his location with ease, and Reborn doesn’t see much point in continuing the deception. He leaps from branch to roof in one movement, making it seem effortless, and tips his hat to them both. “Ciaossu.”

Like before, Takei Eri stays refreshingly clear of the baby-talk and cooing, instead nodding to him in greeting. “We didn’t get to talk earlier,” she says, and Reborn has his own suspicions on why that is but refrains from glancing over to Keiko. “I’m Takei Eri. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Reborn,” he returns simply. “Negotiating with the Vindice like you did is impressive.”

Keiko opens her mouth, most likely to steer the conversation away from further mention of the Mafia that will land her friend in trouble, but Takei continues, “Thank you. That’s high praise, I’m told, coming from you.”

“Oh?” Reborn turns fully to look at Keiko, who huffs and looks reluctantly amused. She shrugs, too, and if that isn’t the vaguest thing he’s gotten from her in a while he doesn’t know what is. “I didn’t know you held me in such high esteem.”

Lies, all of it; he’d come here with questions to ask, after all, and only one of them is regarding why he’d been able to sense what he did, back in Namimori General Hospital. But Keiko doesn’t fall for the bait, and instead asks, “Can you help?”

Takei Eri is eyeing him with well-disguised interest, but Reborn smirks anyway, flicking up the brim of his fedora. “I’m the World’s Greatest Hitman; of course I can.”

He is here to tutor Sawada Tsunayoshi, but Yamamoto Keiko is a mystery to solve as well; and if this will get him in her good graces, then all the better. Reborn isn’t afraid to admit, after all, that he is shameless in leveraging favors like these, however minor they are.

**(- - -)**

It’s only after Takei Eri leaves for her own home that she turns to him standing on her desk and says, “We need to talk.”

Reborn wants to quip something at that, or perhaps say something sarcastic, but doesn’t. Instead he makes himself comfortable sitting at her desk and asks, “What was the Scorched Earth Incident?” because it sounds _hilarious_ and blackmail-worthy.

Keiko looks simultaneously frustrated and chagrined. “A long story,” she says, “and that wasn’t what I meant. I meant there’s a lot that you should know, about… _everything_ , if you’re serious about helping Tsuna.”

Reborn gives her the first, at least, because he can always ask Eri about it. As for the latter - well. Let it not be said that he doesn’t know how to facilitate an exchange, secret for secret, regardless of whether or not the other party is aware of it. “I am. Sealing Flames is reprehensible at best and fatal at worst.”

“You mentioned that before; sealing.” Keiko moves over to her desk chair to sit down in it, putting the two of them roughly at eye-level. “But I think that what you mean by sealing and what _I_ think it means is different. What’s the medical terminology involved and the consequences?”

It’s interesting, he thinks, that she specifies the _medical_ terminology. “Essentially, Tsuna was cut off from his central nervous system. Case studies suggest that those who have sealed Flames experience compromised fine motor control, cognitive skills, and behavioral skills.”

“So,” Keiko translates easily, “difficulty walking and moving, retaining information for school, and having trouble socially.” Her tone becomes harder, sharper. “Are you saying that when his classmates and his mother were calling him ‘ _dame_ ,’ Tsuna was experiencing the equivalent of a neurodegenerative disease?”

‘Dame,’ Reborn knows, means No-Good; and ‘neurodegenerative disease’ is… one way to put it, but it is not wrong. Reborn looks Keiko in the eye, watches her for tells and reactions.

Her face flits through a multitude of expressions: horror, anger, and resignation, before finally taking on a calculative edge. “Sawada Iemitsu and the Vongola Nono have a lot to answer for,” she says finally.

There are many things he could tell her, and _It would be suicidal_ comes to the forefront of the mind, because one does not simply berate the Don of the _Vongola Famiglia_ and live to tell the tale. But what he finds himself saying is, “I understand,” which surprises him.

Judging by her face, Keiko is surprised at that, too. But Reborn doesn’t let either of them dwell on that, instead moving onto the next issue: “You knew about Flames already.”

 _Before I came to Namimori_ he doesn’t say, but Keiko nods easily anyway. “I first handled mine when I was… about twelve.”

There are _mafioso_ that go their entire lives without sparking any Flames, and here Yamamoto Keiko sits, accessing hers at twelve. What happened when she was that young, that she’d felt Dying Will that strong?

Reborn knows himself to have so few tells that it’s virtually none, but still Keiko must have read something from him that she smiles wryly and says, “I was desperate.”

And wouldn’t that make a lot of sense?

“What were they?” Reborn asks, and braces himself for an answer.

Keiko looks confused, at that. “Bright blue, so Rain, right?”

But - that doesn’t -

And then it hits him. Reborn prides himself on being observant; he has to be, being the World’s Greatest Hitman and with all of the associated risks that come with it, whether it’s from his employers or the assassins or the contracts that have little to no chance of success.

Yamamoto Keiko keeps her distance, sleeps late and wakes early, and always looks fatigued. Tsuna and Takeshi worry about her not eating enough and taking care of herself, Reborn knows, something he’d only learned recently when they had fussed in his presence after the Rokudo incident. To him, she has always seemed melancholy, but it had been a footnote, a stray thought.

But now, Yamamoto Keiko has a record of being unafraid in the face of death, whether it’s coming from the World’s Greatest Hitman or from the Vindice’s formerly Most Wanted.

Does anyone else know about it?

(Keiko must, and so must Eri, because Reborn does not think those two would let such a life-changing thing go unremarked upon; and perhaps so does their slippery third Matsuoka Satomi, whom Reborn has yet to meet.

Anyone else other than themselves and those close to them, though… he can see it. The careful way she monitors her tone and her words, to make it seem as though everything is fine; the way she regulates herself, bowing out of certain activities, in order to have enough energy throughout the day.)

“That’s correct, you have Rain Flames,” he confirms on auto-pilot, and then blinks. Keiko startles at that, out of all things. “You haven’t noticed anything else odd about them?”

“Anything… else?” She smiles, then, and it looks involuntary at least. “Isn’t the ability to set yourself and the things around you on not-really-fire odd enough?”

“I meant,” he says carefully, “about the fact that you appear to also have Sky Flames.”

At that, Keiko’s expression blanks. Reborn holds his breath and counts out one moment, then two.

Then she says, “It must be a secondary, then. Excuse me,” and leaves the room.

Reborn would feel bad about driving the girl from her own bedroom if it didn’t offer him such a good opportunity to snoop.

(What he finds merely confirms the gut feeling that has kept his skin intact all these years: Yamamoto Keiko, in all likelihood, has depression.

The revelation tastes like ash.)

**(- - -)**

Reborn thinks that their newfound peace will be strained after such a conversation, but it’s rather the opposite: the next day, he is treated to the sight of Keiko pacing, agitated, with Eri sitting on the living room couch with her arms folded, her expression worried.

“They call them ‘throwaway children,’” Keiko snarls, and turns again on her heel to continue her pacing. “All because the parents are shit, or because they can’t support a kid, and because orphanages are, for some reason, _dishonorable_.”

Reborn cannot understand. Did Keiko not grow up in Japan? Does she not put family above all else, and is she not slow to warm up to strangers like Gokudera Hayato had once been?

But it comes down to this: Dokuro Chrome will die or be without a home on the chance she makes it out of the hospital, and the latter will apparently require a miracle. Reborn is not Shinto; he cannot understand the fact that an entire country - an entire _culture_ \- would let a girl die because they believe it is religiously impure to provide organ transplants.

(He is a freelancer with only loose ties to any Famiglia, and he cannot understand why anyone would not do all within their power in order to survive. The effects of Dying Will, perhaps: the death of all limitations, moral or ethical or otherwise.)

“Why Dokuro Chrome, though?” Reborn dares to ask, and does not flinch when Keiko rounds on him with all of the aggression that he has never outright seen from her. “What’s so important about her that you’re so agitated?”

Eri looks thankful and pained in turns, the former because Reborn posed the question and the latter because of its nature; but Keiko struggles to answer, running her hand through her hair, and Reborn is briefly distracted by that because had Tsuna learned such a tell from her? Or had she learned it from Tsuna?

“Come with me,” she says finally, “and see.”

Curious, Reborn does; and he can feel it, when he’s in the hospital room, after conning all of the doctors they’d met into thinking that he is a specialist here to see the patient and that Keiko and Eri are no one to worry about, really.

Even though Dokuro Chrome is sedated, her room has faint traces of Mist: not enough for someone actively utilizing Flames but instead the latent potency of someone who is on the verge of Dying Will.

Keiko, still agitated, must have been able to sense it, and Reborn cannot say at this point if it is because of the Sky slivers in her Flame or if it’s something else. Eri homes in immediately on the doctor’s notes by Dokuro’s bed and starts skimming through, her face paling with each page.

“Missing kidney,” she reports quietly, “missing spleen, missing _stomach_ , missing large intestine, all due to a combination of gangrene and irrecoverability after her accident. How her spinal cord wasn’t broken I have no clue, but there’s a host of broken bones as well.”

Eri sets the papers down, carefully, and moves to step closer to Keiko. The latter lets her, but doesn’t seem to notice the supportive hand squeezing her shoulder. “Why her, though?” she asks equally as quietly.

Why, indeed. Reborn can understand the Mist and how it would intrigue her, draw her; but he cannot understand why _this_ girl, in particular.

“I said it before, didn’t I?” Keiko sounds weary, but not angry. “They think she’s _expendable_.”

And Reborn can understand her frustration at the thought of someone being expendable. Keiko tends to take in the underdogs, the undervalued, the underestimated: Sawada Tsunayoshi, Bianchi di Scorpio, I-Pin, Fuuta de la Stella.

And now, it seems, Dokuro Chrome.

(How much of it is her and how much of it is the depression? He is morbidly curious, despite himself; but there are things one does not ask, and Reborn thinks of Keiko’s quiet melancholy, of her walking out of her own room, yesterday, at the thought of being someone that is needed, and tucks the question away.)

“Keiko,” Reborn starts then, quietly and carefully, because he does not need to understand an overlooked, unremarked upon depression in order to accept it. He knows now of her struggles with herself, knows at least intellectually what goes on with mental illness at a cellular level - he has to, in order to utilize the healing aspect of the Sun Flame the fullest - and he is…

He will at least admit this to himself. He is afraid. “Are you sure you have a Sky _secondary_?”

“...why?”

He knows the dangers of giving false hopes to anyone, Sky or not; but, he remembers, she has the Dying Will. “Because Mist Flames are not the only way to reconstruct organs.”

Eri looks confused, but Keiko gives him a sharp look mixed with something bordering on thankful. Reborn tilts down the brim of his fedora and considers.

Rain and Sky and Sun; buying time and harmony and reconstruction through activation. He does not care for Dokuro Chrome, but if this means that much to Keiko, then he will do it. It is the least that he can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rokudo Mukuro uses the Possession Bullet, which necessitates the user shooting themselves. A character's mental health is also (briefly) discussed/thought about, and will be further elaborated on in future chapters. Please take care of yourselves, guys.
> 
>  
> 
>  _Ch. 12: 07. the spark ignites_ is roughly 6.7k words stress-written in time for my exams, then cleaned, edited, polished, and waffled over (again). This one is for everyone who commented on the last three chapters and yelled enough encouragement for me to not hoard these chapters like a dragon pffft.
> 
> Neurodegenerative diseases are ones where the neurons in the brain die off, which often results in loss of motor control (fine or otherwise), cognitive skills, and other skills which you need for "ordinary" life or for a decent quality of life. They are incurable by modern medicine.
> 
> The author has depression, but neither my nor Keiko's experience with it should be taken as the final say on it. Everyone who has depression experiences it differently; if you'd like to learn more about it, [here](https://www.verywell.com/physical-effects-of-depression-1066890) [are](https://www.webmd.com/depression/guide/what-is-depression#1) [some](https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/depression/index.shtml) resources.
> 
> The Japanese culture does center heavily around family, and more specifically, the blood family; though they've been making progress in recent times, it's still pretty difficult for children living in [an orphanage in Japan](https://www.quora.com/What-is-it-like-to-be-raised-in-a-Japanese-orphanage).
> 
> Comments are my lifeblood and my motivation and I love them all dearly!
> 
> (I've also started using my author's [Tumblr](http://lanmerr.tumblr.com/) again, so there's that, if you want to check it out I guess)


	13. 08. a house, a home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Build your home on sand and brick and stone, and watch it wash into the sea. Build your home on me and us and our relationship instead, and watch it stand forevermore.

Reborn ends up bringing Tsuna over to the Hospital in order to help, which inevitably means that Takeshi and Gokudera follow. It makes for a good chance to introduce - properly - what Flames do, and for Tsuna to practice with something that matters. Practical application is nothing like theoretical descriptions, after all, and with Dying Will the intent sometimes matters the most.

“Focus your Dying Will,” he tells them. Eri looks intrigued, standing in the back with Gokudera and Takeshi, who are keeping watch for anyone that might be seeking to interrupt them. “Keiko, you want to keep Dokuro stable long enough for the rest of this to work, and want to help us remain in synchronization with each other. Tsuna, you’re doing the same thing. I’ll be doing most of the heavy lifting.”

Keiko grimaces, but follows along easily enough. There’s an edge in orange in Tsuna’s eyes; unsurprising, given his attitude towards this after his senpai had explained her reasoning to him.

Their audience startles when both Keiko’s and Tsuna’s hands light up, blue-orange and pure orange respectively, and Reborn doesn’t bother hiding his smirk as he concentrates with a twist of Dying Will, pushing all of that determination into a single point. Three days of training and already Tsuna is sparking his Flames with ease enough to aid in this; the rest of the Cosa Nostra would call he and Keiko geniuses, savants, monsters for being able to do so.

But Reborn is the World’s Greatest Hitman, and he will not accept anything less than the best, even in his students or his associates.

(Dokuro Chrome dreams in that medically-induced coma: a nightmare of her mother telling her that she doesn't care, that she never mattered, that Chrome could die and she would be happy, that -

The images rise and dissipate away like mist. When she blinks, it is to a baby in a suit, an exhausted-looking boy her own age, and a person with the bluest eyes she’s ever seen asking her, “How do you feel?”)

**(- - -)**

“I don’t want to be a mafia boss,” Tsuna says quietly, after they’ve filed out of Dokuro’s room. He doesn’t look at Reborn but he stares at the door instead, beyond which lies the girl he’d help save, his senpai, and Eri.

Reborn thinks about that; thinks about the boy’s quiet declaration in a theme park auditorium that’s falling apart, of “ _I’m not going to lead the_ Vongola,” and “ _I will change the Vongola, or I’ll destroy it_ ,” and shades his eyes with the brim of his fedora.

“ _Mafia_ boss or not,” he says, “I expect you to work your hardest.”

It takes a while for that to work through Tsuna’s thought processes, but when it does, the boy smiles brilliantly.

(Tsuna and Keiko both; Reborn is having a hard time not being reminded of a certain Sky Arcobaleno, once upon a time, and the fire-pain-betrayal that followed.

But he’s no longer there, is he? He is here, in sleepy Namimori, where the most exciting thing to happen in everyday life is the spar between Keiko and Hibari Kyouya.

And he's already been burned once. He knows what a forced attempt at a Harmonization by a Sky feels like, and he _will not_ fall for it again.)

Then Tsuna says, “Is -” and stops himself, biting his lip.

If this were Dino, Reborn would have kicked him in the head to encourage him to talk. But this is Sawada Tsunayoshi, who has overcome impossible odds like Rokudo Mukuro and his own Flames being sealed, and so Reborn only gives him a glare. Tsuna doesn’t _eep_ but he does straighten, which soothes something sharp in his heart.

“You report to Vongola Nono,” he says without fanfare. “And to my father. What will you tell them?”

Reborn continues to stare at him. There is still the shade of orange to Tsuna’s eyes, waiting for the appropriate moment to spark into a flame; and it makes him cautious, even as he says, “I will tell them what they need to know. That you have succeeded, and that you are improving, and that you are fit to become Decimo. Your plans for once you do are your own.”

Tsuna considers that, for a moment. Loitering behind him and talking amongst themselves, Takeshi and Gokudera are planning _some_ thing, and combined they make a fair image of a leader and his closest companions, regardless of the legality of their actions.

Then his student inclines his head and says, “Thank you,” and that’s that.

**(- - -)**

Yamamoto Tsuyoshi is already taking care of his son and daughter and Fuuta de la Stella, because he will not separate a traumatized child from their self-appointed caretaker, no matter his confusion; adding another to the list like Dokuro Chrome would be hard on him. Reborn knows this both because it is common sense and because Keiko is frustrated and concerned about where Dokuro will end up, once the Hospital releases her.

Then Eri volunteers to take the girl home, citing her parents and how they are overseas for work, and that with her contacts she can have Dokuro listed as a cousin for anyone they wish.

Reborn blinks. Keiko doesn't seem surprised, just resigned. “Only if Chrome-chan wants it,” she warns, and it’s a smirking Eri that flounces back towards Dokuro’s room to ask if she’d want to be hers or Keiko’s family.

(Eri has always been the sort to plan contingencies even as she pretends she hadn’t, Keiko later mutters to him, while the girl herself is explaining details and answering an increasingly awed and disbelieving Dokuro’s questions.

Reborn stares at Dokuro and the now-useless medical eyepatch she is wringing in her hands, wondering about the smothered Flame that’s at the core of Keiko, and the matching latent Dying Will in Eri’s.)

“Why me?” Dokuro later whispers, and she sounds lost. Reborn is not a sentimental man, nor soft; he cannot be, not in this line of work as a tutor or a hitman. What allowances he makes, he tells himself, is because he understands a person’s limits and the negative consequences should he push too far.

And yet he wants to allow himself to believe, when Keiko kneels down next to Dokuro’s bed and says, with Eri smug at her shoulder, “Because you deserve to be happy.”

**(- - -)**

“Lambo-san wants to be picked up!”

Tsuna startles, guilty. In the excitement and terror of the last few days - weeks - he has almost… well, not necessarily, since it’s hard to forget about children who scream and tear throughout your house all day; but there is no other better word for it. He had been so busy that he’d left Bovino Lambo and I-Pin stay in his house with Bianchi-san while he got this sorted out -

And, he remembers queasily, with Nana. Kaa-san. Sawada Nana.

(There is the grim satisfaction that at least she will not do to the children what she has done to him; she loves them too much for it to be possible.

 _But_ , a hurting, resentful part of him still whispers, _then what did I do wrong? What was it that made her say_ -

“You’re so useless, Tsu-kun,” she had sighed one day when he was young and prone to falling after the visit from his father where the world had turned foggy and far away and difficult to understand, “are you sure you’re my son?”)

**(- - -)**

Bianchi had been expecting a small birthday, but Reborn still remembers the surprise on her face when Keiko had brought her a gift, and the even more astounded one when Gokudera had grudgingly shoved a hastily-wrapped one into her hands before beating a retreat back to Tsuna’s side. He’d been sneaking glances at Keiko, though, and at that time Reborn had thought it odd.

Now, with Keiko talking with Bianchi about birthday plans for I-Pin, he doesn’t think it so. The senpai had taken the older di Scorpio sibling and the kouhai, the younger; it’s fitting, or at least appropriate, he has to admit.

(Bianchi has taken to wearing the soft multi-colored scarf Keiko had bought her every occasion she could, which with the November weather has been almost every day, and had visibly appreciated Gokudera’s gift of gourmet Italian coffee more than he remembers her ever doing before. Reborn looks at her and sees the girl that fell in love with him now coming into her own, still beautiful, still deadly, and feels oddly proud.)

The party goes well; the only snag happens when when I-Pin is overwhelmed by the amount of caring that had gone into it, and unwittingly engages her Pinzu-Timed Super Explosion. Tsuna only sighs and takes the girl into his arms to calm her down, heading off to the backyard. Gokudera trots off after him to help, while Takeshi and Bianchi helps to set up the rest of the food and games.

In the midst of this and Keiko quietly sitting with Dokuro and Fuuta de la Stella, Reborn takes the opportunity to observe Sawada Nana. Her husband had described her to be a sublime cook and an angel in her behavior, and any stranger like Reborn had once been would certainly think that.

And yet there’s a certain distance that Nana keeps between herself and her son, Reborn sees, when Tsuna comes back in with a pacified I-Pin, Gokudera still at his heels. She doesn’t do the same with the smaller children; rather she coos over them and is perfectly adoring towards them, and both I-Pin and Lambo adore her back.

Nana does not engage in the same loving behavior with her son. She is perfectly polite, and friendly, and readily enlists his help in helping her move items or doing chores around the house. Anyone who only sees their interactions would, perhaps, think that there is nothing wrong between them.

But Reborn is the World’s Greatest Hitman, and he can see what he thinks Tsuna sees: the tenseness around Nana’s spine, the way she hesitates before asking for Tsuna’s help in anything more difficult than manual labor. The way she says things to Tsuna without seeming to think about it, such as, “You’ve done so well, Tsu-kun, I didn’t think you could get this far.”

**(- - -)**

“Sawada Nana,” Keiko says grimly in the Yamamoto Household’s living room, one arm tucked around Tsuna’s shoulder, “is the sort of woman who did well in school and thought she did well in life and that she would raise two wonderful, talented children with their father coming home on time every night. When Sawada Iemitsu left the country entirely, all of her expectations fell on Tsuna. And when he couldn’t live up to them… well. People can be cruel, when they’re disappointed.”

“She’s not always bad,” Tsuna interjects, quiet and hasty. “She’s supportive, most of the time. She hasn’t called me Dame-Tsuna in the last five years or so.”

Keiko presses her lips together, silent. Tsuna curls up into her side, and like this, he looks vulnerable. Tired. Weary. Nothing like the boy that had stood up against a man bent on vengeance, against entities that can bend the laws of space to their will.

It makes Reborn want to shoot the thing that made Tsuna look like this, but he cannot shoot his student’s mother.

(Tsuna isn't actively trying to force anyone, but by God is he persuasive. None of that promise of companionship-camaraderie-home is directed specifically toward him, but Reborn can still taste the promise of it on the back of his tongue.)

“Just because she’s supportive,” Keiko says carefully, “doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have her faults. You deserve better than to live in a house where you feel one step away from being deemed a failure, or with a person who’s always passive aggressive towards you.”

Reborn lets that sit, for a moment, before he asks a question that he has had for the last five months he has been in Namimori: “Why haven’t you moved in with Takeshi, then?”

Keiko blinks, and then smiles wryly at that. Tsuna just groans and buries his face in his hands. “We offered,” she says, “but Tsuna won’t take it.”

“I can’t just live here forever,” Tsuna tries, but it comes out muffled. “She’s not physically abusive, anyway. And I can deal with it. I don’t want -”

He cuts himself off, but Reborn can read his body language - the slump to his shoulders, the tiredness in his voice - and fill in the rest of the sentence. _I don’t want to be a bother_.

Keiko tightens her hold on Tsuna, and when she says, “You’re not a bother,” it’s very obviously directed just towards her younger brother’s best friend - who is, arguably, just as much her little brother as is Takeshi.

Reborn pulls down the brim of his fedora and wishes that Leon would hurry up.

**(- - -)**

(And if he plants surveillance in Tsuna’s house where Sawada Nana is likely to linger and interact with her son, and digs into her past with just a little more force and vindictiveness than is necessary -

Well. He’s just looking after the wellbeing of his student.)

**(- - -)**

He takes the kids - more specifically, Tsuna, Takeshi, and Gokudera - for a walk into the town proper after that in an effort to fend off the growing dreariness, and when they meet Kurokawa Hana and Sasagawa Kyoko, the latter cheerfully invites their entire group along to what she calls “Cake Appreciation Day.” Reborn thinks it’s ridiculous, but he’s surrounded himself with teenagers who have yet to mature, and really, it could be worse.

It gives him the opportunity to observe the girl’s interactions with Tsuna, at least. Before, he might have thought there’d been a crush on Tsuna’s side; but now, knowing what he does, it’s less of a teenager’s infatuation and more of a mutual understanding of their shared person, Sasagawa Ryohei.

It’s interesting. At Tsuna’s age, Dino had been tripping over his own feet and stuttered through confessions of being interested in girls; but Reborn’s current student leans towards liking girls as friends, and not in a romantic enough way to ask them out. When he’d swiped Tsuna’s phone to look through his contacts and information, he’d found the texting between the two to be minimal, tending towards detailing classwork and comments about Ryohei.

It helps that Tsuna is very obviously admiring of Ryohei, who bounces back remarkably no matter the setback, and by the way Kyoko smiles at Tsuna she knows this.

Tsuna’s text ringtone chimes, and Reborn sips from his espresso and watches his student’s facial expression. It goes through a variety - surprise, wry amusement, exasperation - before finally settling on something solemn, but there’s a glint to his eye that speaks to concealed laughter.

“The Namimori Disciplinary Committee has issued a warning for a street gang trying to move in,” he says, and it’s in such a conversational tone that Reborn blinks.

Kyoko doesn’t bother concealing her amusement, giggling into her hand. “How badly do you think Hibari-san will come down on them for it?”

“I’d say bring popcorn, but that’d be mean,” Tsuna replies, and finally succumbs to laughter. By his elbow, Takeshi is simply leaning back in his chair and grinning very, very widely. “Right, you haven’t seen it before,” he adds, when Reborn raises an eyebrow at him and sets down his cup. (Leon is still a floating cocoon by his head and damn it, he could really use an ally here that can turn into a gun about now.) “Most of the yakuza and gangs around here know better than to piss Hibari-san off, but I guess we’re due for one who’s not aware trying to move in from one of the bigger cities.”

Gokudera looks an odd combination of interested and worried. Tsuna must see it out of the corner of his eye, because he leans in the kid’s direction to talk lowly to him, while Takeshi engages Kyoko in conversation, dragging a reluctant Kurokawa along. The group’s talk moves to school and their friends after that, and for the most part Reborn tunes out a lot of it, keeping an ear open only for gossip and blackmail material and instead concentrates on Tsuna’s and Kyoko’s dynamic. It’s a lot like his and Ryohei’s, a fact that becomes apparent the more they spend time together; two people who have known each other for a while, certainly not as close as Tsuna and Keiko or Tsuna and Takeshi, but who are getting there.

He can work with this, Reborn thinks, and mentally checks off Sasagawa Kyoko as someone to keep on speed dial for the inevitable next trial. And maybe Kurokawa Hana too, perhaps, judging from the way she hasn't shooed off Tsuna yet -

They’re at a window-side table, which is why they get a prime view of a group of men in jackets that barely hides their tattoos prowling into the street. Reborn considers them, spotting three hand-to-hand specialists, two men with guns, and four with knives, and thinks about how best to excuse himself and his student so that Tsuna can go practice with live sparring partners in a low-risk situation.

Then Keiko emerges from the supermarket across the street with someone by her side, both of their arms laden with the groceries that Yamamoto Tsuyoshi had asked her to retrieve. With the street empty as it is, there’s not a lot of other targets for the yakuza to shake down; and accordingly, the men all end up turning towards her. Reborn can imagine what they think of Keiko and her companion: two high school girls who know what they’re doing but would certainly not be a match for a group of the yakuza’s size or their weaponry.

“Oh,” Tsuna murmurs, his attention now caught on the two yakuza slowly making their way towards Keiko while the others loiter around a trash can smoking cigarettes. He looks more surprised with a dawning look of sympathetic horror than anything else. “Kyoko-chan, do you want a front row seat?”

“ _Always_ ,” Kyoko says empathetically, and together the two kids rise, Takeshi only a moment after them as he tugs Gokudera up with him. Intrigued, Reborn hitches a ride on Tsuna’s shoulder as they pay the bills and exit the shop to stand on the sidewalk, Kurokawa slotting next to Kyoko’s side effortlessly.

Keiko and the girl turn to each other, and half a block away and with them whispering Reborn can only make out their expressions instead of their words: the former’s disbelieving and the latter full of glee. The wind carries a name towards them, though, and Takeshi confirms it with an astonished, “Satomi-san is back!”

“I thought she wasn’t supposed to be until a week before New Year’s?” Tsuna asks, his gaze not leaving the unfolding altercation. Takeshi shrugs at that, also not looking away, and with all five kids’ attention on… _whatever_ this is about to be and not their surroundings, Reborn is tempted to hit them on the head with a Leon-hammer just for principle's sake.

But he has to admit, he’s interested in what’s about to happen, too.

Keiko drops all of her bags on the ground and steps away from them, while the girl does the same and digs in her pockets for something. She comes up with a phone and a rectangular box, turning to face them and grinning. She waves, at least, when she finds Tsuna and the kids looking over, and _winks_.

The yakuza approaching slow down, confused. Keiko takes the opportunity to step closer to them. Thankfully for Reborn’s curiosity, the men are loud in comparison to the girls.

“A little dangerous for young ladies like you to be walking home alone, isn’t it?” one purrs, or at least attempts to. Reborn is almost insulted in the name of all gentlemen. “How about we _accompany_ you on your way?”

“I’d rather not,” Keiko says, an eyebrow raised. Her feet are shoulder width apart and there’s not a shinai at her hip but she stands as if there is one, which Reborn finds curious. “Did you need anything else?”

“Just your time, pretty girl,” the other one says, and he smiles. It’s sleazy.

“Oi,” someone from near the trash can calls, “cut the act already! Either take ‘em or don’t!”

“What my friend is trying to say,” the first one says to Keiko’s increasingly blank face, “is that we heard you’re close with the resident Hibari clan. We’d like to, shall we say, get close with them as well. Could you help us with that?”

Well then. Either Hibari’s information was incorrect, or someone didn’t tell Tsuna the whole truth. Reborn can feel his student’s shoulders start to tense at the implied threat, can see Takeshi out of the corner of his eye bristling, Gokudera responding to Tsuna’s and Takeshi’s unease. Kyoko looks one moment away from gliding over there and redirecting the group’s attention to herself, and Kurokawa a moment away from dragging her back from such a thing.

Then the [first notes of a song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPf0YbXqDm0) starts playing. Reborn tracks down the sound to the girl that Keiko had been with, who holds up the now-revealed speaker with a vindictive grin.

Keiko sighs. “Really, Satomi?”

“You know you want to!”

“You’re terrible,” she shoots back, seemingly not paying attention to the now-insulted yakuza who are pulling weapons and moving to surround her in order to defend their honor, or to kidnap her, or both. “I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

Even from here Reborn can hear Matsuoka Satomi snickering, and the starting line matches up to Keiko ducking the first yakuza’s sloppy swing to knee him in the gut.

The next few minutes are absolute chaos as they watch and Matsuoka outright laughs. In between, Reborn can see Keiko _bopping her head along to the song_ , and he whips out his phone to start videotaping.

(Tsuna’s smiling in pride and worry, and Takeshi is biting his lip; but Gokudera’s face has to be the most humorous in its mix of constipation and awe, and Reborn sneaks blackmail photos of them all.)

“Eri got me into it to practice English,” Keiko says unapologetically when it’s over, her phone to her ear as she waits for the call to connect. She says it with a straight face but there's that glint of humor in her eye. “And then Satomi insisted on playing it at every fight like the drama queen she is.”

“Not just that one, though!” Matsuoka chimes in, grocery bags now back on her arms and her speaker and phone tucked away. She is classically beautiful and Reborn is sure that with one look by a recruiter she could be on the covers of magazines all over Europe, and yet the girl hasn’t dropped her grin in the last ten minutes. “I’ve got _I’ll Make a Man Out of You_ and a bunch of others just waiting for the right occasion.”

Immature teenagers, he reminds himself.

**(- - -)**

Tsuna leans back in his chair, Takeshi a reliable warmth at his right elbow and Gokudera muttering math equations to his left. He considers this, and there’s a choked feeling in his throat, and he gives into the urge to smile. In the span of a few months, his social circle has gone from his best friend and his senpai, their father, and their school friends to one including countless other people, and he is simultaneously exasperated and thankful for it.

And even the release of what they’d called a “seal” and what he’d known as a difficulty learning, moving, and thinking had been thanks to the arrival of one person.

It’s funny, he thinks, how the two people who have most drastically changed his life started out hating each other. In fairness, _he’d_ been against Reborn, too, when the hitman had swaggered into his life with the full confidence that Tsuna would bend to a plan that a man he’s only seen three times in his life had made. Senpai and even Takeshi had had a bad feeling about him, and when asked Yamamoto-san had only pressed his lips together and refused to say anything.

But it’s been about six months, and though Reborn and Keiko had been fighting amongst themselves, when they’d been given a mutual target suddenly they’ve become the best of friends. It’d be impressive if it weren’t as scary as hell.

And even after Rokudo, they’re still pretty friendly. Tsuna is looking over his shoulder expecting to see one or both of them pretty much all the time now, and they’d even managed to work together to help heal Dokuro-san.

Whose birthday is coming up soon, now that he thinks about it. It’s in a worryingly few days, and if they want to plan anything, they’ve got three days at most before it’ll start to get desperate.

Takeshi notices before Gokudera does, but both of them stop their bickering easily enough to turn their attention to him. “What’re you thinking about, Tsuna?” Takeshi asks, at the same time that Gokudera says, “What’s the matter, Juudaime?”

Then Gokudera goes back to glaring at Takeshi while the latter smiles lazily at him, and Tsuna sighs and presses his face into his hands. He’s been doing a lot of that recently, and he’s going to _keep_ doing a lot of that, he suspects.

“Dokuro-san’s birthday is coming up,” is all he says, and at that Takeshi perks up like Jirou does, when he’s feeling well enough to.

Gokudera, in comparison, scowls before he checks himself. There’s still the anxious look in his eyes that other people have trouble seeing but that pulls at Tsuna’s attention like a very obvious blotch of storm on the horizon. “We have the math test coming up, and then the English essay to finish writing -”

“I know you’ll do amazing on the math test, Gokudera-kun,” Tsuna interrupts, and only feels a little bad for it. He’s had this discussion with Takeshi before, he knows that Gokudera sometimes needs reassurances on his skills and his worth, and he will do it however many times it’s needed. “And we’ll have Keiko-senpai look over our essays, so we’ll be fine there. _I’ll_ be fine because you’re here to help me, and Takeshi, well.”

“Nee-san will throttle me if I fail,” Takeshi laughs, “so I won’t. Simple as that!”

“It’s definitely _not_ , you idiot!” Gokudera growls, but his attention is focused on them, now, and not on whatever anxiety’s been kicked up in his head, and Tsuna will take that any day.

No matter the how severe the headache that their bickering gives him, he admits, wryly, and tries to steer the conversation back to planning a party for Dokuro-san.

**(- - -)**

Eri-san readily agrees to help keep Dokuro-san distracted for the day as they finish setting up, and this time they host the party at Takeshi and senpai’s house. Yamamoto-san is as accommodating as ever, and Tsuna offers him snacks from the bakery as a gift and also because _bless the man’s soul_ , he doesn’t mind them using his house for this party for a girl he’s only met in the last week.

And it’s turning out to be quite the party: like I-Pin’s, everyone comes, including Gokudera, Bianchi-san, and Satomi-san. Senpai is the one to help put up decorations, though, while Gokudera and Bianchi-san snipe at each other over setting up the food and Satomi-san disappears… _somewhere_.

Reborn is seemingly everywhere and nowhere at once, poking his nose into things; but when Tsuna finally has the time to catch his breath in between putting up the banner and setting out the blankets for the quiet corner, he is sitting on the table next to the giant spread of food that they’ve all helped pitch in on, his chamaeleon partner’s cocoon floating by his hat.

“I’m impressed,” the baby hitman says, eyeing the selection of Japanese and exotic dishes that they’ve made, bought, or otherwise procured (and he is not asking Satomi-san about it, because Tsuna’s not afraid of what the answer might be except for the fact that he _is_ ), and then the small pile of gifts opposite to the quiet corner that seems to grow every time he turns around.

Tsuna allows himself a smile, at that. “Everyone really came together with this one,” he admits, and settles down with a pillow and a sigh. “I-Pin-chan’s was nice, but it was at my house, and that meant that Kaa-san was cooking. Which isn’t bad, honest, but…”

“A house is not always home,” Reborn says. Tsuna blinks, startled, and the hitman tilts down his hat at that. He hates that; both the fact that he can’t see his tutor’s eyes, and the fact that his tutor believes it to be necessary to conceal them.

But Reborn understands, and for that Tsuna is grateful.

Dokuro-san comes into the house with a quiet _Excuse me_ , Eri-san at her heels, and then flatout stares. Her gaze flicks from the gathered people to the food to the decorations and the hint of the gift pile that Tsuna knows is visible from the room’s door, and there’s so much disbelief and stifled want and apprehension and nervousness to it that Tsuna’s heart hurts.

Keiko-senpai steps forward first, and the room lets her. “Happy birthday, Chrome-chan,” she says. She opens her arms. Dokuro-san steps into them and, judging from the hitching of her shoulders, starts crying.

Tsuna leans against Takeshi, to feel his friend’s solid warmth, and hooks an arm through Gokudera’s. When he glances around, Fuuta has slipped behind Keiko-senpai and Dokuro-san to tuck himself next to Eri-san, who puts an arm around his shoulders easily. Bianchi-san stands to the side with Reborn, her expression pained and understanding, and it shifts into something like weary resignation tinted with gratefulness when she sees Tsuna with Gokudera. Kyoko-chan and even a reluctant Hana-san are standing by with blankets, just in case they're needed.

Not counting I-Pin and Lambo, who are rambunctious enough to be overwhelming for Dokuro-san; Hibari-san who would have felt uncomfortable; and Yamamoto-san who has stepped into another room to allow them their privacy, all of Tsuna’s closest people are here.

“Thank you,” Dokuro-san finally manages to say, and Tsuna wants to tell her, _No, thank_ you _for being here_.

**(- - -)**

(It’s interesting to see them all interact with each other, now that Reborn isn’t jostling for space and time and attention: how Keiko talks with Takeshi, with Tsuna, with Gokudera. How Tsuna talks with all of them, and Eri, and Satomi. How Keiko and Tsuna and all the rest that make up the heart of Namimori admit Dokuro Chrome and Fuuta de la Stella into their group, easily, and how they keep a careful distance between themselves and people like Rokudo Mukuro and Dino in a way that extends beyond the typical small town mentality.

 _And me_ , a still-vulnerable part of him whispers, strangled and stifled beneath years of solitude by necessity. Reborn does his best to quash it.)

**(- - -)**

They’re out at the playground, him and Tsuna and Keiko and Fuuta de la Stella, when grown men in sunglasses and suits appear. They loiter around the edges for a minute, long enough for Tsuna and Keiko to notice, long enough for the other children at the playground to slip off to the outskirts in fear, and certainly long enough for de la Stella to flinch away from them.

Keiko’s eyes grow hard at the last, and Tsuna draws himself up to stand in front of de la Stella. Reborn hops onto a platform that will let him stand around his student’s head-height. “Tsuna?”

The mafioso stupid enough to try this move toward them as a group, and more than half of them reaches for guns. Reborn grits his teeth and reaches for his spare pistol, sees Keiko ready her shinai out of the corner of his eye and move to put herself in front of de la Stella.

Then she stills, and she must have caught something that Tsuna had done out of the corner of her eye, because she turns to pick up de la Stella and _sprints_.

In the next moment, Tsuna draws in enough breath to holler, “Hibari-san! WE’VE GOT INTRUDERS!”

The mafioso stall much like the yakuza did, a week ago, confused and thrown off-guard. Tsuna takes that moment to turn smoothly on his heel and start running, and Reborn leaps onto his student’s shoulder when he passes him.

The poor bastards don’t even get three steps towards de la Stella or even have time to draw their weapons before there’s the surge of killing intent, rapidly approaching and hailing the arrival of the human natural disaster known as Hibari Kyouya.

(Keiko starts wheezing with laughter as soon as they duck behind a bench, and Tsuna joins her in the grass while de la Stella keeps himself tucked under Keiko’s arm. Reborn ignores them all and watches Hibari wreak havoc with a group of, no doubt, full-blooded mafioso, and isn’t really surprised when the teen is the last one standing.)

**(- - -)**

“You should invite Hibari Kyouya into your Famiglia,” Reborn tells Tsuna later that night when they’re reviewing Vongola history in a one-on-one session. Interestingly enough, the boy freezes before putting down his pencil and turning to face him with steady eyes.

“I don’t have a death wish, Reborn-san,” Tsuna replies. His voice carries in the quiet only broken by the muffled screeches that’s coming from downstairs, where I-Pin and Lambo are chasing each other around. “And I don’t think the word you intended to use was ‘invite.’”

Sharp boy; or sharp Vongola Intuition, for which in this case it’s the same thing. Reborn flicks up the brim of his hat to stare at his student in the eye. They’re a plain brown matching his plain hair, but he doesn’t doubt that the potential is still there, somewhere. Tsuna has difficulty igniting his Flames save for exceptional or dire circumstances, and right now this isn’t one. Yet.

Reborn doesn’t want to have to force it to that point, but if he has to… “He would be a good addition. No one would doubt your position or power, no matter what you tried to do, if Hibari was backing you.”

Tsuna stills, and then visibly swallows. Whatever’s going on in his head Reborn can’t tell, but it must be something along the lines of poaching because he says after a heavy moment, “Senpai would murder me.”

Curious, that he refers to Keiko and not Hibari himself. “Care to explain why?”

“Not really,” the boy mutters, and sighs when Reborn cocks his spare pistol. “Senpai has her own reasons, but she’s explained some of them, and they make sense. No, I won’t share them with you,” he adds as if he knows what Reborn had been about to ask, “because that would be a breach of confidence. But I will tell you this: you, or anyone trying to get Hibari-san to do anything else than what _he_ wants to do will end in disaster. And possibly broken bones. And collateral damage to buildings. We still haven’t forgotten about last time.”

Reborn allows that to sit, just to see Tsuna start to squirm with his eyes still on his loaded gun, before he puts it away. “What happened the last time?”

“Senpai and Eri-san call it the Scorched Earth Incident,” Tsuna sighs, and buries his face in his hands. “And it’s so, so true. Satomi-san is responsible for, like, eighty percent of it. Hibari-san is responsible for fifty percent of it.”

“...the math doesn’t add up.”

“ _I know_ ,” his student groans, “but that’s the only way to describe it, and _hell no you’re not getting any other answer out of me other than that put that gun away Reborn-san._ ”

**(- - -)**

The rest of the weeks leading up to the New Year pass in a similar fashion: school, tutoring with Keiko-senpai, Mafia knowledge being crammed into his head by Reborn-san, physical conditioning and sparring practice with Sasagawa-senpai (who has stepped up his regimen by quite a lot, after Rokudo and Kokuyo and that entire disaster).

Sometimes Reborn-san takes Keiko-senpai and Eri-san and Satomi-san to the range, though, and Gokudera follows along for that. Tsuna doesn’t. Guns are…

Guns are very final, for him. He’d much rather learn how to fight with his hands and feet than use something that can kill someone so very easily with the lightest pressure on the trigger.

(Takeshi had offered swords training and Kurokawa-san had reluctantly offered bo staff training at Kyoko-chan’s insistence, but Tsuna had turned down the both of them. He’s seen Keiko-senpai fight with and without her weapon, and he’s seen Sasagawa-senpai in the ring, and he isn’t too proud to admit that he wants to be able to do what they can: to defend those he cares about even if he only has his hands and feet as a weapon.)

They don’t hear from Rokudo at all in that time; Takeshi and Gokudera actually agree on something for once and think it’s a trap, a ruse to get him to lower his guard. Tsuna’s the one who’s seen Rokudo’s memories just as surely as the boy has seen his, though, and he thinks it’s something else. What exactly it is, he’s not sure, but it’s… it’s not consciously malicious, towards them, anyway.

If it were, he would have stormed the base they’d made in the rundown theme park already. He might get accused of taking chances with his own safety in who he decides to trust, but he will not take that chance with others. He refuses to.

(Tsuna will not be his father, and this he swears before all the gods that are listening.)

But when the New Year hits, it’s with all the frenzy that comes with the prologue to the hatsumōde. Kaa-san enlists his and the kids’ help in cleaning out the house, and Tsuna carries out far more trash bags than he’d done in years before; then Takeshi hooks an arm through his and walks with him halfway across town, to where Gokudera has rented an apartment.

Tsuna looks at the peeling paint on the walls and the old doors in distaste, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Takeshi laughing at his expression. His best friend is serious, though, when they pass by the old stairwell that is definitely not safe for regular use, and he takes on a considering look when they arrive at what they were told was Gokudera’s apartment.

“Do you think Aneki would know where to get good prices for better housing in the area?”

Takeshi blinks at him, then shrugs. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she would. It’s like Keiko-senpai knows everything about anything in Namimori. Doesn’t she work with the Disciplinary Committee, too?”

“...yeah, that would explain it.”

Conspiracy theories made, Tsuna moves to knock on the door. Moments pass. Takeshi shifts his weight from one foot to another, his shoulders deliberately loose.

Then the door swings open hastily, revealing a Gokudera that looks as frazzled as he sounds when he says, “Juudaime! I’m sorry to keep you waiting!”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Tsuna says automatically, bringing up his hands in an effort to placate. It’s no use; Gokudera jerks the door open the rest of the way and ushers them inside, glaring at the walkway and the street suspiciously before he shuts the door.

Tsuna… actually hasn’t been to Gokudera’s apartment before. He’s invited the boy over to his house and Takeshi had invited them both over before, of course, but he’s been loath to intrude the one space that should be a safe place, a refuge. It’s with a weird feeling that Tsuna toes out of his shoes with a murmured _Excuse me_ , Takeshi warm at his back, and takes in the room.

The first thought to hit him is that it’s plain. Even Bianchi-san’s small guest room back at the house is more decorated than this. White walls, simple furniture, a single door further in and to the left that he’s guessing is a bedroom. A kitchen to the right with the bare necessities, and a center table and two chairs occupying the rest of the tiny floorspace, its surface scattered with papers and books.

There’s nothing personal here. It feels like somewhere that Gokudera comes to when he needs to work, and eat, and sleep, and that’s it.

(Gokudera is often the first to see him on the way to school, after Takeshi, and is the last to see him, because he often walks Tsuna home, bickering the entire way with his best friend. He’s tense, yes, and he’s agitated at times, but _how_ -

Then Tsuna realizes that he’s never heard the boy ever refer to this place as “home,” only “the apartment.”)

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Tsuna says, and that shuts up Gokudera’s hasty excuses that he hasn’t cleaned up enough and that he’s terribly sorry, Juudaime. There’s something to the boy’s nervous manner and haste that makes him feel bad, but he’s committed. There’s nothing else to do but forge on. “We - Takeshi and I and senpai and rather everyone, actually - were wondering if you wanted to do a hatsumōde visit with us? I know you’re not Shinto, but I’m not either, really, and Keiko-senpai isn’t, but it’s just a thing we do in Japan and -”

Takeshi nudges him lightly in the shoulder. Tsuna pauses to take a breath. Gokudera has stilled from his frenzy, his eyes wide, and like this he is starkly vulnerable, and it’s easy to make out the hesitation, the disbelief, the wariness. It’s a lot like what Dokuro-san had looked like, when they’d thrown her the birthday party, and mentally Tsuna curses at himself even as he steps forward into Gokudera’s space, lowering his voice and making his tone as sincere as he can.

“We’d really like you to come,” he says. Gokudera isn’t breathing. “You don’t have to, and there’s no hard feelings if you don’t. It’s an open offer.”

“Juudaime,” Gokudera says, very seriously, “if you asked me to, I would walk through fire for you.”

Takeshi breaks the solemn silence with a stifled chuckle, and Tsuna elbows his best friend in the stomach without looking backwards and says, “I hope to kami-sama you never need to do that, Gokudera-kun, but I’d settle for you being happy and wanting to be here. With us or not is optional.”

“I’m not Japanese, Juudaime,” the boy says. Tsuna thinks he’s about to turn down the visit and is ready with assurances but then is surprised when Gokudera continues, “You can call me Hayato. Are you sure you want me? I’ve spent pretty much my entire life in Italia, I have no idea what to do at a hatsumōde visit.”

This time it’s Takeshi that stills, but Tsuna can see the worried lines at the corner of the eyes of the boy in front of him. “Don’t play down your own Japanese heritage like that, Hayato-kun, you can claim the culture if you want to. You’re allowed to do that. And I do want you there, I promise.”

Hayato blinks, and then his entire face transforms, when he smiles. It looks good on him, Tsuna thinks when he smiles back.

(No more, he thinks. No more. He will learn how to defend his people, both physically and emotionally, from others and from themselves.

No more.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep telling myself that I’ll take more time to write these, but I keep finishing early, and with longer chapters than what I’d outlined to boot. I’m blaming my wonderful commenters for this entire productive fiasco.
> 
> I also realized that I could hotlink things into the text itself around the same time the song came up on my writing playlist on shuffle, and then I had the scene of Satomi playing it on speakers while she’s cheering on someone handing out a beatdown, and I’ve been looking forward to that scene for two chapters. Two chapters!! (If you’re gonna intimidate your opponents before a fight you gotta make it into a full-fledged power move, man.)
> 
> I’m thinking of writing an Author’s Commentary set to go along with _Seiryū_ , since there’s a lot that I want to talk about regarding the fic, and I think it’d be fun to have that along with whatever meta stuff about the series I’ll be putting up. Let me know if that’s something you want to see!
> 
> Comments are my lifeblood and my motivation and I love them all dearly!


	14. 09. chasing our wayward newborn dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say that no news is good news, but we've tread these paths before. This time, you're more wary; this time, you're more canny. Have faith.

Reborn has both read and heard about this, but this is the first time he is actually seeing the preparation that goes into a hatsumōde visit; and he has to admit, there’s something to the Japanese people’s way of doing it.

Everyone gets dressed up in traditional clothing, from Tsuna in a kimono that gets pulled out of Yamamoto Takeshi’s closet, to Dokuro Chrome in one of Eri’s old kimonos and Bianchi in a modified one from Keiko, to Fuuta de la Stella in one of Takeshi’s older ones. Reborn ends up taking a lot of blackmail photos of the in-between when the kids are puzzling out the multiple layers, the obi, and the hakama.

He’s just about to fish a kimono out of his stock of cosplay clothing to join in (and take more pictures of the kids’ expressions) when Keiko pauses before him. He takes a moment to absorb the sight of an unusually formally dressed Keiko - all twelve pieces and obi and all - before he sees what’s in her hands.

Since it’s neatly wrapped in opaque paper, he can’t immediately tell what it is. It’s only habit that makes him pause before he accepts it, though, and he waits until Keiko gives him a nod before he opens it.

It’s a men’s kimono, Arcobaleno-sized: somber blue and black, with the barest hint of shimmering silver embroidery etching out pine needles along the hems.

“Welcome to Namimori,” Keiko says drily. Reborn tips back the brim of his fedora and gives her a smirk, ignoring the tight sensation in his chest.

**(- - -)**

It starts as an idea when she’s walking the lantern-lit road up to Namimori’s Shinto shrine while surrounded by her and her kouhai’s friends. The group has almost doubled in size, and she needs to take a moment to spot them all: Gokudera Hayato, Bianchi di Scorpio, Fuuta de la Stella, Dokuro Chrome. Even I-Pin and Lambo, currently distracting Sawada Nana at the food stalls and games that come with the shrine’s festival. Even Reborn, who is wearing the kimono that they’d all pitched in for to provide him (some more willingly than others, and here Keiko smiles at the memory of Gokudera’s grumpy face).

And that’s not including those she’d known beforehand: Takeshi, Tsuna, Eri, Satomi. Even tou-san, bringing up the rear. Even the Sasagawa siblings, dragging a reluctant Kurokawa Hana along. Even Kyouya, whose people are edging the perimeters of the shrine, and who will undoubtedly be the last to ring the bell mere minutes before the end of the matsunouchi.

Thinking of all of these people, Keiko considers the timing of the year. Where they are, what has happened, and what will happen.

She rings the bell when it’s her turn, bows twice, claps twice. Thinks.

She is not religious; never has been, after she woke up in a world that was not her original one. But she prays, before that bell and with the warmth of all those people behind her, and she makes a choice.

**(- - -)**

Reborn feels it when he’s watching the patiently waiting line of people that winds through the long road and into Namimori: the unfolding of a Flame like the petals of a flower, segment by segment. He doesn’t whip his head around but he does make a sharp turn in time to see Yamamoto Keiko straightening from her bow, and _oh_ , there it is.

Sky Flames with an undercurrent of Rain, a placid river that could turn torrential at any moment; both to drown others as well as the self.

He misses Gokudera, Bianchi, Fuuta, Yamamoto Tsuyoshi’s reactions - those who know what that means, can probably feel it humming in their teeth - when Leon’s cocoon flashes a blinding white, almost overlooked in the bright lights of this hatsumōde festival. When it abates there are two objects that drop into Reborn’s hands.

The gloves he pockets to give to Tsuna at the next dramatic and necessary moment that presents itself, and then he continues to stare at the chameleon-shaped ear cuff in Sun-yellow. It’s jewelry. Normally Leon doesn’t deem jewelry necessary; hell, the weirdest thing that the chameleon has ever synthesized is Enzo, and the thing was a _turtle_.

“Why an earring?” Reborn asks his partner, who flicks his tongue out to taste the air. But Leon is looking at someone, and he follows the gaze to Keiko now with Dokuro at her elbow and smiling at something that the girl had said, waiting as they are for the rest of their group to go through the ringing of the bell.

Then he stares back at Leon, unamused. “ _Really_?” he hisses, but the chameleon doesn’t seem to care, simply hopping back up onto his fedora to curl up contentedly. He’s known Leon to make things that he thinks the person in question _needs_ , and so he can guess what the gloves are for - weapons, most likely, once the user lights up with Dying Will. But why an earring?

He catches himself thinking, _Does Keiko even have pierced ears?_ before he shakes himself out of it.

**(- - -)**

(If Tsuna’s Sky murmurs of home and friendship, then Keiko’s now sings of an undying bond of faith, love, and support. Reborn knows she doesn't mean to, most likely doesn’t even know she’s doing it since she'd been actively stifling her Sky Flames, but if he’d had even an ounce less self-control than he does he would have courted her already for that whispered promise.)

**(- - -)**

Now rung in for the new year, the group drifts towards the omamori vendor stands. There’s enough that pretty much all of them can be browsing at once, and Reborn finds Tsuna’s shoulder for this one. His student is looking over the ones for good luck, threaded in white and crimson red, and he eyes them with suspicion even while Tsuna goes through them with careful fingers. “You’re not getting one for love?”

He says it with the barest tone of teasing, though, and Tsuna must at least hear some of it because the boy doesn’t immediately turn tomato-red and start sputtering; instead there’s just the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. “I don’t particularly like the ones for love, Reborn-san.”

An interesting response, but the omamori for love here are a set of one blue and one pink, a very obvious indication of the expectation of heteronormativity, and Tsuna’s file has been wrong on multiple occasions before this with degrees varying from slightly erroneous to catastrophically incorrect.

Tsuna finally reaches for one in [Rain-blue, white, and gold](http://www.tsubakishrine.org/images/omamori/shiawasemamori_lg.jpg), its embroidery impossibly fine. “I’d like to wish for happiness, though.”

Which begs the question: is he wishing happiness for himself, or for those around him? Reborn remembers the smallness of his shoulders that day on the Yamamoto’s couch, the inward slump, the weariness in his voice, and thinks it could be either or even both.

He hops down from Tsuna’s shoulder and ventures over to Keiko’s, when he can make the transition seem effortless, and leans over her selections as well. His education in multiple languages that includes Japanese is only part of the reason why Vongola had contracted him for this tutoring job, and he reads _Traveller’s luck_ and _Education and passing exams_ when Keiko skims through them.

She’s in her last year before university, he remembers. Seventeen years old and yet a Sky whose Flames he can almost taste every time he inhales. “Why not get one for your exams?”

“I don’t, usually,” Keiko says, and her tone is almost absent as she searches for something. “We’re not that religious. But this year, I think I could use some protection, more than ever.”

Reborn glances at the kanji on her selected omamori: a _Yakuyoke_ in [gold, yellow, and white](https://www.tokyoweekender.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/ward-off-evil-omamori-203x149.png). A Ward Away Evil amulet. He isn’t Shinto, but he’s familiar enough with Japanese culture after months of research and then living here that he knows this one is supposed to prevent potential ills or bad events.

It’s not a bad omen, necessarily, but it certainly feels like one.

**(- - -)**

Tsuna’s tucked the omamori into his sleeve - they hadn’t been able to buy any last year, and its weight is new and familiar all at once - and is preparing to return to the house with his mother and the smaller children when there is a flicker of _something_. With it comes the whisper of what’s been explained to him as Hyper Intuition, and he has experienced too many new and terrible things in the last half-year to wave it off as of little concern.

He follows his gut and Intuition to a shadowed corner behind a row of vendors where they meet the line of trees, but before he can go there Keiko-senpai grips his shoulder. Reborn is on hers, looking as if he is chewing over something and with Leon back on his hat - when had that happened? - but his attention is directed towards where Tsuna had felt that surge of intent.

“Gokudera and Takeshi might make the situation worse,” Keiko-senpai says without fanfare, voice low and almost covered by the din of the festival; behind her, he can see silver hair and black bickering over something or the other.

“But you’re not going alone, Tsuna,” Reborn adds, and makes the leap from his senpai’s shoulder to his. Tsuna wears the weight easily, familiar with it after weeks of carrying around his tutor that way.

He looks at his senpai, feels the steadying presence of the baby hitman, and says, “I’ll be right back.”

Senpai offers him a wry grin, and Tsuna takes the warmth it stokes in his chest with him when he goes.

There’s nothing in the shadows, at first; but standing there for a few moments proves fruitful when a figure steps out from behind a tree, clothed the same way that he’d seen him last: Rokudo Mukuro. The boy looks otherworldly, almost supernatural; and then Tsuna sees beneath the deception, and finds a lean figure and dark smudges beneath his eyes.

He hasn’t been getting enough sleep, Tsuna thinks. “Good evening, Rokudo-san. What brings you here?”

“A Vongola Decimo without Guardians is a ridiculous notion,” Rokudo says as if Tsuna hadn’t spoken. “And I’ve noticed you’ve only the two with you so far.”

“Tsuna is working on others.” Reborn replies before he can, and he presses his lips together, biting down the instinctive _I’m not going to force them_ because he’s learned from Reborn what Guardians are and what they do. What’s involved.

(He’d promised himself before and he’s promised again before the bell: _he will not be his father_.)

Rokudo eyes that, though, and mulls over something.

Then he says, “I will become the Vongola Mist Guardian in exchange for Ken and Chikusa’s safety.”

The mere act of saying anything of that sort pains him, Tsuna can see, and he does not need the Vongola Intuition - a nuclear alarm system more than a warning, now - to see it; but he says it. This simple act does more to convince him of Rokudo’s authenticity more than anything else.

“Why, though?” Tsuna asks instead. “I know you’re practically tied to the town because of the parole rules from the Vindice, but you don’t have to talk to me at all in order to have your freedom -” _to learn from your mistakes_ , he doesn’t add, because he might need to be stern but he won’t be mean, “- I made sure of that.”

Rokudo stares at him, for a moment. It’s weighing and calculating and judging all at once, and Tsuna has gotten so many variations of that look in the past half-year that all he does now is straighten and look at the boy steadily in both eyes.

“Because you’ll keep your word.” Then Rokudo turns on his heel and dissipates into Mist, the showy bastard. His presence doesn’t completely disappear, though; it hangs around, clinging to the air and to the space around them.

Reborn lets that sit for a moment, before he taps Tsuna’s shoulder. “This will allow you more leverage over Rokudo and to discipline him as Decimo to Guardian, if necessary.”

But even as his tutor says it, there’s something in Tsuna that rebels. “I won’t do that,” he says automatically, staring at the spot where Rokudo had seemed to disappear, and ignores the sensation that he's being watched. He wants his invisible audience to hear him. “I’ll stop him if he tries to right wrongs with violence again, maybe, but I won’t _confine_ him. I won’t tell him what to do. The Vindice said the conditions were that he’s not allowed to leave Namimori without me, and I can’t exactly overrule that; but what freedom and respect that I can grant him, I will.”

There’s more to this that Tsuna isn’t saying, that he doesn’t know _how_ to say, but this much he does. It’s difficult to see Reborn’s face when the hitman is sitting on his shoulder, and with his hat tilted down and his face shadowed like that, it’s nigh impossible.

“The offer has been made,” Reborn says at last. “Think about it. What else does Rokudo have to give? He can’t offer you money, or weaponry, or even the heads of your enemies on a stick, because would you want that? What would you do with it? But he _does_ know that you don’t have a Mist right now, and that he can bargain with.”

“Then I’ll offer him and his friends protection,” Tsuna shoots back, “and we’ll find another way to find a Mist Guardian. Even if he offers it’s under duress, Reborn. There has to be another way.”

Because there has to be more to this than what’s on the surface. ‘Better to be used than to be unwanted,’ Ken Joshima had said, and at the time he’d thought he’d understood that. But now Rokudo has worded it as ‘Ken and Chikusa’s _safety_ ,’ as if he alone couldn’t protect them. As if there is something else to this.

As if, Tsuna realizes, Rokudo believes that even if Ken and Chikusa are able to escape the notice of the Vindice, assassins or not, he will not be able to. That he’ll be dragged back, leaving his two subordinates - or not subordinates, and more friends, acquaintances for whom he’s responsible for - out in the cold.

Had the Vindice approached him separately and made threats? Tsuna’s hands curl up into fists, beneath the sleeves of his formal wear. Or did someone else find out about what’s going on here and made insinuations that Rokudo could not ignore?

“Who knows about Rokudo-san, Reborn?” he asks.

The man doesn’t hesitate in answering: “You, me. Your Guardian candidates. Keiko and her circle. Yamamoto Tsuyoshi. Bianchi. Lancia, who will be returning soon. No one else. I told Vongola Nono that we fulfilled the requirements and that the Vindice were satisfied. Why?”

“Because,” Tsuna says slowly, carefully, “we might have a leak.”

**(- - -)**

The entire point of having Rokudo being confined to Namimori in order to control the information flow about him is because Tsuna has a too-soft heart and, fortunately or unfortunately, an iron spine to hold it up. Takei Eri had convinced the Vindice to put Rokudo and his crew on parole for that reason, in light of the wrongs that had been done to them; but Reborn knows that Eri had only been able to do so because Rokudo had targeted Famiglias whose behavior was reprehensible and against the Vindice’s laws.

That she had been able to negotiate with the Vindice _at all_ is a first, and Reborn suspects it will be the last. The Police of the Cosa Nostra cannot be seen to be weak, but they cannot be seen to go back on their word as well, because who then would trust them to keep the law?

It rings in his ears - _We might have a leak_ \- all the way back down the small mountain. Gokudera and Takeshi are quizzing Tsuna about where he’d been, who deflects their questions with the quiet ease of someone who knows them well enough to do it; Keiko looks at him, looks at Reborn, and then tells Tsuna quietly, “Conference at home.”

Tsuna goes along with that easily enough, which shuts up his two almost-Guardians. Reborn considers that, considers the Sasagawa siblings and how to draw them further into the group, all the way back to the Yamamoto house.

It’s a crowded table that sits down, once they’re all out of their kimono. Tsuna is surrounded by Takeshi to his right and Gokudera to his left, Keiko sitting across from him. Even Satomi and Eri, who had refused to be left out of the conversation, take places at the table and leave a spot for Bianchi.

There’s an Arcobaleno-sized cushion on the table itself where he would have sat had he been regular-sized, next to Eri and Gokudera, and Reborn makes the leap onto the table seem effortless and sits cross-legged. Leon scrambles off of his hat to move to his shoulder, eyes closed and seemingly serene; but he can feel his partner’s tension.

“Rokudo approached Tsuna tonight,” he says without preamble, and the room minus Tsuna and Keiko seems to breathe in sharply. Gokudera looks to Tsuna with concerned eyes and a shade of betrayal; Takeshi seems more outraged than anything.

Tsuna looks pained at the fact that the cat’s out of the bag so quickly, without giving him time to prepare, but he continues anyway. “He asked to become my Mist Guardian in exchange for Ken and Chikusa’s safety. I didn’t exactly get to answer him before he left, though.”

“It’s a trap, Juudaime,” Gokudera says automatically. All eyes turn to him; he blushes at the sudden attention before he forges onward with only the barest of hesitation in his voice. “The position of Guardian is a prestigious one, even more so if you’re a Vongola Guardian. Rokudo would gain a lot with little to lose if he were your Mist, no matter what deal he tries to make.”

“This guy tried to possess you,” Takeshi adds quietly. His frame is loose and he’s sitting easily, but his shoulder is pressed against Tsuna’s. “We can’t forgive that easily.”

“The question is, why now?” Eri leans in and laces her fingers together; beside her, Satomi looks uncharacteristically thoughtful. “The contract with the Vindice states that if Rokudo and his group break a single law, they will be taken back to Vendicare alongside Tsunayoshi-kun. But,” she adds when Gokudera and Takeshi bristle at the last, “if he were his Guardian, he could claim that he was acting under Tsunayoshi’s orders.”

Bianchi picks up the thread from there, thoughtful. “So, one possibility is to shift the blame when he makes another move against the Cosa Nostra. The other is that he needs the protection the Guardian status would grant him.”

Keiko leans back, and the movement grabs the table’s attention. Reborn can almost feel the threads of Sky pulling at everyone in the room, steadying Tsuna at the same time, though the girl doesn’t look as if she knows she’s doing it. “You suspect something, Tsuna.”

It’s not a question. Tsuna doesn’t flinch but sitting where he is, Reborn has a good view of the way that the boy bites his lip before he admits, “I do. Nothing concrete, but…”

“You know we value your insight,” Keiko says. Her voice isn’t necessarily soft but there’s an edge of something kind to it, a stern sort of understanding. “What did your intuition tell you?”

Tsuna breathes in for two counts, breathes out for three. “That someone found out about Rokudo-san and our deal with the Vindice, and is currently threatening him with it.”

The room stills. Reborn tugs down the brim of his hat to shade his eyes, peering around the table while he does so. The majority of them look as if they’re in shock, which is fair; they’d internally declared the fact that Rokudo was aligned with Tsuna as top-secret information, so as to avoid bringing the rage of the Cosa Nostra down on his head. Eri looks thoughtful still, while Satomi looks distant, her attention on something else.

Keiko’s face blanks, and that feels so wrong from the normally stoic but expressive girl that Leon slips down from his shoulder to slide into his hand in the shape of a gun.

“We don’t have enough information,” Reborn says finally to break the tension in the room, bringing their focus back to the present and to him. “Until someone makes a move, we’re operating blindly. Rokudo had a point. Tsuna only has two official Guardians right now. There are three more in place, but…”

“Who are they, Reborn?” Tsuna sounds curious, exhausted, resigned. Takeshi loops an arm around his shoulder; Gokudera looks as though as if he wishes to, but just puts a hand Tsuna’s knee, in the end.

Reborn can’t feel bad about this, because this is in his student’s defense. He _can’t_. “Sasagawa Ryohei as Sun, Sasagawa Kyoko as Lightning, Kurokawa Hana as Cloud.”

The selection seems to surprise Tsuna, who blinks rapidly; but Reborn can see out of the corner of his eye that Keiko breathes out steadily, shoulders slumping, and that Satomi grasps her hand beneath the table.

Bianchi, the only person that could be considered a neutral party about this, looks intrigued. “I can see the older Sasagawa,” she says slowly, “and the younger one, with some training. Does Kurokawa have a martial arts background?”

“Bo staff,” Takeshi provides, and he grins, sharp and quick. “She’s good at it, enough to fend off the boys in class that try to make a move on Kyoko-chan.”

“I’m not going to corner them into it, Reborn,” Tsuna interrupts. He’s recentered himself in the short interlude; and though there’s not any Dying Will to be found in his eyes there’s the edge of something in the air, turning it sharp and warm at once. “I’m going to tell them what it involves, and how it’ll work, and I’ll give them a choice.”

He considers his student and _only_ his student, letting the world narrow down to this. To the quiet certainty in Tsuna’s voice, tainted metal slowly but surely being forged into steel. The boy has a long way yet to go, but he’s getting there. He will get there. Reborn will make sure of it.

“You know them best, Tsuna,” he grants. Tsuna blinks once, as if he didn’t expect that. “But I expect you to do this with your Dying Will.”

Eri snorts at that, and Satomi giggles under her breath; when Reborn looks over, Keiko is raising her eyebrows at them, and then turns that same disbelieving expression towards him.

He doesn’t say anything or let his face change in response, but the girl must still read something in his face, impossibly, because the disbelief melts away into understanding and respect.

Namimori, honestly; he’s done trying to figure out how its inhabitants, and he’s done trying to understand Yamamoto Keiko in particular. As long as they’re not stabbing him in the back, they can fight yakuza and other delinquents to pop music and find humor in the oddest of situations for all Reborn cares.

**(- - -)**

Tsuna drops the news on Sasagawa-senpai, Kyoko-chan, and Kurokawa-san when they’re all together in a group, so he only has to explain things once. They’re disbelieving and in shock in turns, but Keiko-senpai helps when they have questions, outlining what they know of the Italian mafia and how Tsuna is poised in it.

It’s Kyoko-chan that turns to him, though, when the impromptu crash course in the rainbow Cosa Nostra is done and over with, and she looks the most thoughtful that he’s ever seen her. “So you’re really intent on changing it?”

There’s no mockery in her voice, only a steady sort of attempt to understand, but Tsuna’s breath hitches anyway. Keiko-senpai puts a hand on his shoulder, though, and he uses that to ground himself.

When he’s done, Kyoko-chan looks surprised; Kurokawa-san looks bored. Sasagawa-senpai looks very confused, but willing to along with it. Tsuna gathers up his courage. “I am. I will. I might not have known about it, but my position means that I can change it for the better. If I can do that, then it’s worth it.”

He blinks, and the world shifts just a little sideways. The Intuition that murmurs to him of things quiets, and he can feel the fire beneath his skin that Reborn calls Dying Will. He calls it to him, and the warmth spreads down his arms and reaches his toes.

Kurokawa-san jerks back, one arm reaching out to cover Kyoko-chan, who doesn’t move. Sasagawa-senpai says cheerily, “You’ve got some Extreme Motivation, Sawada! Of course I’ll help! I’m your Boxing Coach and Captain, after all!”

“Sasagawa-senpai, that’s not -” is all Tsuna is able to get out, before he sighs. Beside him, Keiko-senpai has a hand over her mouth, but he knows she’s laughing by the way her shoulders are subtly shaking. She still hasn’t let go of his with her other hand. “Kyoko-chan? Kurokawa-san?”

“If onii-chan is getting into it,” Kyoko-chan says very seriously, “then I’d better follow him to make sure he doesn’t get _too_ into it. And I believe you, Tsuna-kun. I trust you.”

 _That_ , of all things, throws him for a loop. Kyoko-chan looks exasperated when she explains herself: “You’re sincere, Tsuna-kun, and I’ve seen you with Yamamoto-san. You both are very good friends, and you forget I’ve known you both for years. Shush for a minute, Hana,” she adds when Kurokawa-san opens her mouth. “I know it’ll be dangerous. So what? I’ve sparred against onii-chan’s teammates before, and I’ve won. And you’re going to do great things, Tsuna-kun, and I want in on that, if not strictly just for onii-chan then for myself.”

There’s a moment, then, where Kyoko-chan’s words need to sink in; but it still feels distant, that someone that isn’t his best friend or someone like Hayato would choose to follow him, and it’s why Tsuna asks with his voice just a little unsteady, “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am.” Kyoko-chan looks insulted. “I can’t say for Hana-chan, though.” She turns to Kurokawa-san, who looks as if she’d just swallowed a lemon.

“You don’t have to say yes,” Tsuna is quick to say, and he ignores the feeling of the warmth slipping back beneath his skin in order to make sure he has her attention. This is important; he has to get this right. “Even if you don’t, we’ll make sure to protect you -”

“Bullshit.” Kurokawa-san’s voice isn’t quiet at all, and she raises a single eyebrow when Tsuna ends up shutting his mouth with a click of his teeth. “You think I’m stupid enough to think you’ll let us go after spilling your secrets like that? At best I’m a liability; at worst I’m an information leak.”

“No.” This time Tsuna doesn’t even need to reach for that quiet, still place where it’s easy to say what he means; this time _it_ comes to _him_ , and the world shifts into that slightly orange-shaded place again. “I won’t let them. Kurokawa-san, you have a choice. Everyone has a choice. I will fight for your right to it.”

She stills at that. Tsuna breathes in, tries to calm himself down from that place where he gets aggressive, gets protective of people, because Kyoko-chan and Sasagawa-senpai might have agreed but Kurokawa-san hasn’t, yet.

Then she says very quietly, “All I’ve got after university is my best friend and an empty apartment,” and there’s something delicate in her voice when she says that that his Intuition fixates on and makes Kyoko-chan close her eyes, her expression pained. “If she goes into it, then I will too, but on my own terms. Is that clear, Sawada?”

“Of course,” he says automatically. Then it hits him, what Kurokawa-san said, and it makes him smile as wide as he can.

Sasagawa-senpai yells something about extreme causes and people; under that, there’s Kyoko-chan’s returning smile, relieved in places that his Intuition tells him is because he’s reconciled himself with her best friend; and next to her is Kurokawa-san’s surprised face, which she quickly hides beneath a stern one.

Keiko-senpai squeezes his shoulder one more time before she lets her hand fall away, but when Tsuna looks to her, she smiles back.

**(- - -)**

Reborn eyes the small group that Tsuna and Sasagawa and Kurokawa have made, and considers the way the rest of their class don’t seem all that surprised about it. It’s a calculated risk, bringing in civilians like this, but Sasagawa Kyoko’s file suggests that she isn’t a liar and where the girl goes, Kurokawa Hana is nigh guaranteed to follow.

Still, when he has them before him along with Sasagawa Ryohei, he makes sure to give them his evilest smirk. Kurokawa blanches; the younger Sasagawa slowly raises first one eyebrow, then both.

The older Sasagawa bows to him. “Master Pao Pao! It’s extremely good to see you again!”

Sasagawa Kyoko’s eyebrows reach her hairline.

“I am glad to see you well,” Reborn tells them in his Master Pao Pao voice. “Are you ready to begin your training?”

Kurokawa only manages to get out a hasty, “Wait a minute,” before Sasagawa Ryohei straightens from his bow in one swift movement and pumps his fist. “I am extremely ready!!”

Reborn pulls out his Pao Pao gloves and brandishes them, never letting his smirk drop. “Then let us begin!”

**(- - -)**

“I think you might have traumatized them,” Keiko tells him conversationally, when Kyoko and Hana are groaning on the Yamamoto dojo floor. Ryohei is passed out, after having pushed himself too hard in the name of ‘extreme training,’ and Reborn eyes the three of them with training plans and schedules running through his head before he shelves them away for later consideration.

“Nonsense,” he replies, pulling off his Master Pao Pao costume to reveal his pristine suit and fedora hat beneath. It’s a trick he’d mastered not long after the Arcobaleno curse, for various reasons, and it never fails to impress people.

Keiko, it seems, is no exception; she blinks at the costume change, and rubs her eyes before turning to stare again.

He makes sure to steep his tone in plenty of amusement when he asks her, “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” she says absently, “just trying to figure out how you did that.”

“You won’t,” he tells her, voice confident. That draws her attention, at least, back to him. “Because I’m just that good.”

Keiko pauses; then she smiles, and it brings up something warm beneath Reborn’s ribs, and he absolutely does not let his breath hitch. “That’s fair.”

 _Merde_ , Reborn thinks to himself. He _has_ to get this Sky attraction under control.

**(- - -)**

They celebrate Fuuta de la Stella’s birthday in the next few days, this time throwing a party at Takei Eri’s house, because apparently in the midst of birthday preparations for Dokuro Chrome and the insanity of the hatsumōde visit he and Dokuro had gotten close. Eri is perfectly willing to host it as well, which simply means that Keiko is the one that needs to distract de la Stella this time; and Reborn is in the middle of tracking _her_ down when he stumbles across her and Hibari Kyouya sitting seiza and drinking tea.

There’s no discernible reason for them to do so; it’s not even close to the weekly spar they’ve practically written into their schedules, which Reborn knows because they’d done it two days ago, and _that_ had been a show in and of itself that Tsuna and Takeshi had actually brought popcorn to. The two of them aren’t saying anything either, simply drinking from a traditional Japanese tea service set with Fuuta de la Stella sitting quietly with a boy his research tells him is Kusakabe Tetsuya.

It’s odd, and extremely quiet, and the two of them are alternating between staring at each other, the tea, and the outside thanks to the half-open shoji doors to the veranda overlooking the snow-dusted garden.

Reborn pauses where he is, in his hiding spot in the middle of an equally snow-dusted pine tree. The curiosity is still there, slowly burning, because some of his questions might have been answered but there are still others clamoring at the back of his mind; only the first of which is an explanation for both Yamamoto Keiko _and_ Sawada Tsunayoshi’s staunch refusal to force Hibari Kyouya into anything.

But there is a quiet here that he finds is easy to sink into, like a warm patch of sun or a particularly exquisite cup of espresso after a long day, and Reborn only dazedly realizes it’s a passive expression of Sky and Rain Flames doing the trick once he’s leaned against the trunk of the tree for a good half-hour.

And Yamamoto Keiko isn’t even _trying_. It’s Harmonization and Tranquilization with all of the benefits and none of the forcing, and it’s the most soothing thing that Reborn has experienced since the Fated Day, and -

He really is too old for this.

(He can’t interrupt the quiet, though, and doesn’t even move from his spot in the tree until Keiko silently sighs and drinks the dregs of her latest cup of tea before rising. Fuuta de la Stella rises only a half-moment after her, and both Hibari Kyouya and Kusakabe Tetsuya incline their heads to her as they leave.)

**(- - -)**

The end of January comes and goes, and Reborn attends two more festivals in the gifted kimono with the mob of a group that’s mostly made of immature teenagers; both times are loud and chaotic and definitely more full of color than any other party he’s attended in the last year, mafia or birthday, and he watches all of it pass with bemusement on either Tsuna’s or Keiko’s shoulder.

(He’s even more amused when Keiko drags Gokudera out for apartment hunting, though, and takes blackmail pictures of the Storm looking alternatively confused and downright nervous about the entire fiasco until he’s moved into a building that’s a mere three streets away from Tsuna’s. Where she’d gotten the idea to do that for a boy she’d threatened when she’d first met him is never explicitly stated, but Reborn thinks he has a pretty good idea when he spots Tsuna and Takeshi fist-bumping in the background while Keiko lectures Gokudera on how to spot a liar of an electrician.)

Leon flicks his tongue at him from time to time, his eyes far more knowing and self-satisfied than a chameleon’s should be, and no amount of Reborn flicking him on the nose will snap him out of it.

It’s frustrating; he engages in a cold war with his partner over it all the way until the eleventh of February when his student takes him aside in the middle of a three-way discussion between Keiko, Bianchi, and Gokudera to say, “Senpai’s birthday is next week.”

If this had occurred even four months ago, Reborn would have stared flatly at Tsuna and ask why he’d needed to care; but he finds that he cannot do that now. Instead he nods, puts together the scrap of information along with the far more dry text in Yamamoto Keiko’s file, and asks, “What are you planning?”

Names and dates and times pass by him in whispers; Reborn files away the ones that are relevant and takes mental notes for the ones that require far more precision timing. Tsuna looks chagrined at the end of it, and leans in with one quick glance to the back of Keiko’s head, where she’s listening to Bianchi ramble on about how to kill a man with bleach and vinegar. “Senpai’s always been able to tell when we’re planning her a surprise party.”

Reborn tilts his head. “Even with Eri and Satomi distracting her?”

Tsuna blinks at that - most likely at Reborn’s usage of first names for his senpai’s friends - but rights himself in the next moment. “Yeah, even then. So, uh, we were wondering if you’d be willing to distract her for the next week, Reborn-san.”

He hums, pretending to consider it. Tsuna shuffles his feet and doesn’t look back at Keiko, whose confused and slightly worried attention is on them, before Gokudera says something with a vaguely threatening movement in Reborn’s direction. She’s plenty distracted after that, enough for him to hop onto Tsuna’s shoulder without her seeing it. “There’d better be good espresso at the party, Tsuna.”

His student blinks again, and then smiles. “Thanks, Reborn-san.”

**(- - -)**

That night, he gets an email from his contact: _Documents uploaded. Wire the second half of the payment to the usual account_.

Reborn sends the authorization for that with only the slightest edge of distraction, and makes sure that the room to his Arcobaleno-sized hideout is locked against from all distractions and infiltration attempts short of a nuclear armament before he opens the files.

 _Sawada Nana_ , he reads. _Formerly Shibata Nana_.

He has to admit, the Mist Arcobaleno is thorough and their information is well worth the steep price. The beginning of the document lists out what bare bones he’d been given by CEDEF: Shibata Nana, who went to a small high school in Tokushima Prefecture before moving onto university, though she’d returned to work in her hometown as a waitress until she met and fell in love with Sawada Iemitsu.

But it gets less typical when he keeps reading. There are notes from Shibata Nana’s teachers detailing their observations about her until Secondary; school records which show card after card of impeccable grades, which got her a degree in university that she was never able to make use of; a single note from Sawada Iemitsu fourteen years ago to Vongola Nono, roughly outlining how he’d fallen head over heels in love with her after a chance meeting influenced by what he calls fate.

Mammon has also provided interview transcripts from old friends of Shibata Nana, which notes what they remember of her personality: a woman who is perfectly friendly to strangers with the capability to be casually cruel to those that are closer.

Combined with what he’s observed about the woman, it reveals an unsettling character. On paper, Sawada Nana sounds like a woman who’d studied in Secondary in order to make something more of herself through university, and when that hadn’t panned out had thought that her ticket out of her home prefecture would be through marriage, only to be disappointed.

 _People can be cruel, when they’re disappointed_ , Keiko had said. Reborn leans back in his chair, staring at the words on the computer screen. The stark letters are far too impartial for what it implies.

On paper, Sawada Nana doesn’t seem too bad. In person, her casual coldness, disregard, and lack of care in her choice of words had been the worst thing she could have done to a sealed-Flame Sky child.

There are no records of her ever physically striking Tsuna, but that doesn’t mean that she never will. Reborn exits out of the files, encrypts them with the algorithm he’d written himself, and resigns himself to a sleepless night.

**(- - -)**

There are several ways that he distracts Keiko over the week, and in doing so Reborn successfully distracts himself from the issue of Sawada Nana until he’s only checking the surveillance feed once a day. Initially Keiko is suspicious, but soon realizes that it’s _Reborn_ distracting her, and then according to Eri drops her suspicion entirely.

Reborn would be insulted if he weren’t smug at the idea of Yamamoto Keiko accepting his own antics the way he’d accepted hers and Namimori’s. As it is, he’s able to drag her out to a fishing session at the river that’s really an opportunity for them to make contingency plans, another Cake Appreciation Day with Sasagawa Kyoko, and a spar between her and Sasagawa Ryohei that he videotapes to spur Kurokawa’s training with, all before February 18th.

The actual day dawns cold and quiet; he sips a cup of espresso at Sawada Nana’s kitchen table, using the caffeine to wake himself up fully. Tsuna slips downstairs just as he’s finished, and it’s with practiced ease that he waits for Reborn to hop onto his shoulder before they exit the house together.

People and supplies slowly trickle into Eri’s house, while Takeshi treats his sister out to a birthday lunch in order to buy time. They set it up much the same way they’d done Dokuro Chrome’s: with tables full of food, a quiet corner full of blankets and pillows to one side, and a slowly growing pile of wrapped gifts sitting across from it. It’s a standard layout, he’s starting to think, though he’d need to observe Satomi’s or Eri’s parties to be sure.

Still, Reborn watches with fascination as Satomi flits in and drops off wrapped and packed containers full of food, as Eri directs the decorations and de la Stella and Dokuro respond easily without flinching, as Bianchi is somehow able to coral I-Pin and Lambo Bovino into being quiet and offering their own haphazardly- and hastily-wrapped gifts to the pile after her much more neatly-wrapped one.

Gokudera arrives with Sasagawa Ryohei, both of them helping to carry in a concealed cake, and Sasagawa Kyoko and Kurokawa Hana help bring in the sushi spread that Yamamoto Tsuyoshi displays in a place of pride on a center table with a beaming smile. It’s impressive, Reborn has to admit, eyeing the myriad of sashimi and nigiri that are all expertly sliced and beautifully arranged.

Hibari Kyouya stalks into the room at one point, but the gathered only wave or call out greetings to acknowledge him as he heads directly towards the quiet corner and claims all of the blankets for himself. In contrast, his subordinate Kusakabe takes the detour to carefully put down two wrapped gifts before he’s dragged into helping with setting up.

A few people don’t seem surprised at Hibari’s entrance, those namely being Eri, Satomi, and oddly enough de la Stella. Reborn remembers that that group, plus Keiko and minus Satomi, had been the one to find the boy when he’d been kidnapped by Rokudo, and tucks the observation away for later.

Finally the Yamamoto siblings arrive, and the entire room can hear the conversation drifting in from the door: “Of course not,” Keiko is saying, “did you think I wouldn’t notice? Two hundred and fifty seven baseballs falling down on someone’s head isn’t exactly _subtle_ , Takeshi.”

Yamamoto Takeshi laughs self-deprecatingly; Reborn doesn’t even need to see him rubbing the back of his neck to imagine him doing it. “At least it worked?”

“You didn’t need to get involved.” Keiko’s obviously trying to go for a stern voice, but all she’s able to achieve is something fond. “I could’ve taken care of it myself -”

And then she freezes in the doorway. Her shoulders tense, her feet shift into shoulder-width apart; but she drops the defensive behavior as soon as she fully registers the room. She groans loudly instead, glaring at Takeshi and Tsuna in turn.

“Happy birthday!” The both of them smile winningly, each with the innocence befitting of an angel. Eri smirks as she steps forward to put a birthday hat on Keiko’s head, a more Western custom than an Eastern one, but which still serves to make the corner of Keiko’s smile twitch up. Satomi doesn’t even bother to be subtle; she laughs loudly and raucously, and loops an arm through her friend’s to drag her further into the room.

Reborn, sitting two feet away from Hibari’s self-claimed corner, has a prime view of Keiko moving through the multitude of people gathered to celebrate her birthday and of the corresponding kaleidoscope of expressions that pass her face while she does: disbelief, surprise, cautious happiness, nostalgia, and at one point the slightest shade of melancholy. When she spots Hibari, her smile softens into something far more appreciative, and she dips her head to the boy’s single opened eye in the mass of blankets that’s become of the quiet corner.

When she spots Reborn, she pauses in what’s plain surprise. He flicks up the brim of his fedora, highly aware of the way that everyone is now chattering amongst each other. It gives them privacy in a room that shouldn’t be possible of it, and he only sweeps the room with his eyes once before he says, quietly, “Happy birthday.”

Keiko smiles slowly, and if Reborn were another man he would have said she’d smiled hesitantly; instead, Leon slips their own wrapped gift into her pocket when she isn’t looking.

(He knows, vaguely, who had gotten Keiko what; and over the next few weeks she either wears or uses the item in question, and thanks them individually for the gift. But she appears wearing the chameleon ear cuff the very next day, and she thanks both Reborn _and_ Leon the next time they see each other.

Reborn breathes out slowly through the warmth that falls over his shoulders like a comfortable winter jacket. Her Sky still sings of undying faith, love, and support, and he is very, very tempted.

In the end he refrains because he still has a job to do, and he cannot do that if he is compromised.)

**(- - -)**

MafiaLand comes through Japan’s waters using a route that’s close enough to Namimori during the first week of March that Reborn can drag the kids out to visit it on the first day of their vacation. He ropes in Tsuna and his aspiring Guardians, who have improved in leaps and bounds - no less of what he’d expected or required of them, what with the training he’d put them through.

But he takes Yamamoto Keiko, too, and when she’s told of it Takei Eri also volunteers herself for the trip, bringing Dokuro Chrome with her. Bianchi comes along with I-Pin and Lambo, taking them off of Sawada Nana’s hands to take them on a tour through MafiaLand’s far more recreational areas than Colonello’s arena.

(It leaves Fuuta de la Stella with Matsuoka Satomi, who is surprisingly calm and steady when the boy is in her presence; Reborn remembers the girl’s file, though, remembers reading _Youngest of three; most likely has experienced great pressure to perform well_ and the way her friendship with Yamamoto Keiko has spanned nearly a decade, and isn’t surprised at all.)

All in all, it’s six kids that get dumped into Colonello’s proving grounds when they can’t enter the moving island normally, and Reborn leads Keiko, Eri, and Dokuro to where Colonello has set up a spectator box for the training course. The Arcobaleno gives them only a cursory glance before he redirects his attention to the struggles of teenage children through a training course designed to challenge soldiers and men with decades of experience on them.

Keiko and Eri don’t share a look but sitting on the former’s shoulder as he is, Reborn can tell that they don’t need to. Instead Eri leans back with her arms crossed over her chest, while Dokuro stays at her elbow and Keiko steps forward.

Reborn takes the opportunity to leap onto the railing next to Colonello. “Ciaossu.”

“ _Long time no see, kora,_ ” the Rain Arcobaleno offers back without turning away from his new trainees, in English. “ _Been keeping busy?_ ”

“ _Here and there,_ ” Reborn returns casually in the same language. “ _Taking contracts, terrifying brats; the usual. You?_ ”

Colonello makes a noise low in his throat at that. “ _It’s been_ dull _; all of the mafioso they send me are worse than sub-par, kora. Watching them struggle through the course got boring a year ago, kora._ ”

“ _Oh-ho? Putting idiots and self-assured children through their paces, boring?_ ”

“ _You know what I mean, kora._ ” Colonello scowls, and then it abates into a frown. “ _But these guys… huh. They’re not terrible at it; where did you find them, kora?_ ”

The spectator box is, admittedly, too high up to see much more than just the hair of the kids downstairs; but Colonello had been a soldier, before the Fated Day. With this, at least, if he’s playing the fool then it’s just that: a ruse.

“ _In Japan, of all places,_ ” Reborn says. “ _And they’d_ better _not be terrible at it; I would have wasted my time for the last nine months if they were._ ”

Colonello looks up at that, at least, at that confirmation to the rumors that Reborn’s taken another teaching contract, before he finally looks to the little audience of three behind them. Dokuro gives the Arcobaleno a hesitant bow in greeting, which Reborn tips his hat to and Colonello blinks at; Eri just waves the fingers of one of her hands, and goes back to observing the kids now resorting to using their Dying Will to get through the last one-third of the course with a frown.

Keiko’s put her hair down, a rarity that Reborn had already taken multitudes of blackmail pictures of earlier, but the deviation from the norm means that it covers her ears and he’d only hummed when she’d used to it to avoid the stares from the MafiaLand staff and assorted guests.

Now, though, she makes eye contact with Reborn before she tucks the hair behind her ear in one smooth, casual movement.

To his credit, it doesn’t take Colonello long to notice the now-revealed ear cuff. He starts choking, though, which makes Dokuro giggle very, very quietly beneath her hand. Eri swings her attention back to the Arcobaleno, then to Keiko, who has just the slightest upward tilt to the edge of her lips.

Reborn can’t resist jabbing just a little at his friend, though. “ _Don’t tell me the boredom got you so rusty that you’ve forgotten how to breathe._ ”

Colonello swears at him in Italian. Eri moves to put her hands over Dokuro’s ears, who looks startled before she accepts it with good grace. Reborn is tempted to kick the Rain off of the railing, but settles for a physical jab to the ribs instead. “You’ve got young, impressionable ladies in earshot, idiot.”

“ _\- everyone who’s in the know will know,_ ” he finishes finally in English. “ _And can they even understand me?_ ”

“ _Unfortunately_ ,” Keiko drawls out in her accentless English, at the same time that Eri raises both her eyebrows and announces in perfect French, “Je voudrais que vous ne juréz pas pendant que Chrome est ici.”

Reborn just smirks, when Colonello turns to him with wide eyes.

Thankfully for the man’s sanity (and state of clothing, because Reborn suspects that _Eri_ might push Colonello off of the railing if he continues to berate her innocent charge’s ears with curses, in a different language or not), Tsuna and his group stagger their way out of the exit of the training course. “It looks like they’re done,” Reborn says to interrupt him. “Why don’t we go down and offer them our congratulations?”

Colonello huffs and waves a hand; Falco comes down to pick him up. Reborn only waits a moment to watch his fellow Arcobaleno take off on a direct route to the kids, before he takes Keiko’s offered shoulder-ride down.

The kids are exhausted, muddy, and bruised in turns; but Takeshi grins brightly at his sister and asks, “Nee-chan, you should try it!”

Sasagawa Kyoko, Kurokawa, and Gokudera all immediately shoot the boy down, while Tsuna’s panting too hard to say much of anything; Sasagawa Ryohei gives a double thumbs-up and shouts, still, “You should extremely try it, Keiko-san!”

Keiko blinks. Then she says, very dryly and with an undercurrent of interest that would perhaps be inaudible save for the World’s Greatest Hitman or someone close to her, “Alright.”

Everyone shuts up. Reborn tilts back the brim of his fedora and smirks again at Colonello when the man looks to him with narrowed eyes. Dokuro’s shoulder is a perfectly comfortable perch on which to watch Keiko running the obstacle course, anyway, and even Eri decides to run the course with her after some cajoling.

This time, they watch from the end of the course instead of from the spectator’s box as Keiko first drags Eri through it, then laughs as the girl begins to keep up with her effortlessly. Reborn knows there’s still a gun she’d tucked away on an ankle holster, though, and is gratified when Eri just shoots her way through one of the obstacles that had given the kids such trouble.

“ _You found them in Japan, you said?_ ” Colonello asks him again when Keiko and Eri are as equally as muddy as the younger kids but significantly less bruised, and he says it in Italian.

Reborn’s in a good enough mood to humor him. “ _Rather, they came and found me. Keiko Yamamoto is the mentor of the Vongola Decimo candidate._ ”

“ _Tsunayoshi Sawada, right? Lal told me about it,_ ” Colonello adds hastily, when Leon slips into Reborn’s hand and curls his tail around his wrist. “ _The CEDEF Head really has no sense of self-control._ ”

“ _Apparently._ ” Reborn pulls down the brim of his hat to shade his eyes. “ _Among other things as well._ ”

His fellow Arcobaleno gives him a sharp look at that, but he won’t get any answers out of Reborn, regardless of how he asks; not about his student, not about Sawada Iemitsu, and sure as hell not about Yamamoto Keiko.

**(- - -)**

Keiko is considering collapsing on her bed when someone runs up the stairs and down the hallway without stopping once. There’s only four people in the world that would do that, and one is still in his own house recovering with another next to him, and Satomi would text, first.

So she’s sitting up and reaching for the shinai that’s leaning against her bed when Eri runs in, takes two steps inside, half-turns to close the door, and leans back against it. She looks frazzled, as if she’d run the entire fifteen minute way here from her own house.

There are _so many things_ that could have gone wrong to make Eri look like that, and Keiko is thinking about all of them - her parents overseas, Dokuro Chrome, school, Satomi or one of their friends getting into trouble - when Eri bends over to press her hands against her knees.

“We’ve got a problem,” she wheezes out, taking deep breaths in between her words. “I heard from my contacts -”

**(- - -)**

Reborn gets a call when he’s in the middle of prodding the pile of sleepy and exhausted boys that’s Tsuna, Takeshi, and a reluctant Hayato. Leon turns into a phone for him; the caller ID says, when he looks, _Keiko Y_.

“Ciaossu,” he says as he picks it up without looking away from the mess. He pulls back the short staff he’s been using as a jabbing instrument and considers the way their limbs are sprawled out, spotting an elbow that could use some tough love.

She doesn’t mince any words, which isn’t unusual for her; but when she says, “Sawada Iemitsu is on his way back to Japan,” Reborn collapses the short staff fully in his hand and turns on his heel to head for his sealed and private room attached to Tsuna’s.

Which reminds him: first things first. “Are you telling Tsuna?”

There’s static, as Keiko sighs. “Of course.”

He’d expected nothing less, but the tension that he can feel mounting in the air and turning it warm as his Flames flare doesn’t abate. He listens to Keiko breathe on the line, as someone on her end murmurs off a file - Eri, most likely, given the girl’s resources, and when there’s a pause he asks, “What’s your policy?”

“...you don’t want to take lead on this?”

Reborn might be a proud and shamelessly vain man, but he isn’t too proud - or suicidal enough - to admit when someone else is more knowledgeable about a situation. “No matter what we discussed, I’m sure you have your own plans for when Sawada Iemitsu chose to finally return to Japan.”

There’s a sharp laugh over the line, and that at least is miles better than the coldness that Keiko had started the call with that Reborn can sink into his chair in relative comfort. “We do,” she says; and _there’s_ the dangerous edge to it that makes the hitman Reborn sit up, her Sky humming down the phone line regardless of the lack of physical presence. “I’ll tell Takeshi I’m putting the Woodsman Protocol on standby, and I’ll ask Tsuna what he wants to do.”

It’s a common theme with this group, and Reborn is simultaneously glad and in doubt of it, of its good intent and of its naivety. “Woodsman Protocol?”

Keiko pauses, for a moment. “A folk tale of a man who leaves his family,” she says finally, “and was cursed by the gods with immortality long enough to be separated from them when they died.”

And since there’s no way that Keiko would ever condone harm to her protege, the protocol must refer to a symbolic death that is intended to grant Tsuna severance from his family. Reborn stares at the screens that show the surveillance feeds from his student’s living room, tracking Sawada Nana’s movement through the kitchen. “I’ll see what it was that made Sawada Iemitsu return,” he offers.

Keiko sighs again, but this time there’s relief in its undertones. “That’d be much appreciated. Good hunting to you, Reborn.”

“Good hunting, Keiko,” he returns, and sets his fingers to his keyboard just as she hangs up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have yet another chapter stress-written in four days! Seriously, though, all of you commenters are awesome and wonderful and I'm going to do my best to sit down and answer some more questions soon because my gosh you all deserve it. Thank you so much for your support, everyone!!
> 
> Here, have some (more) notes:
> 
>  
> 
> Pine trees in Japan represent good luck and happiness; here’s a [chart](http://www.kimono-clothing.com/page/27) of common design patterns on kimono and their meanings.
> 
> Omamori are amulets which hold prayers, and each one is intended for a different purpose. You can read more about them [here](https://www.tokyoweekender.com/2015/05/japanese-lucky-charms-the-guide-to-omamori/).
> 
> Hatsumōde visits are the first visits to a Shinto shrine or Buddhist temple of the year; you can read more about them [here](https://livejapan.com/en/article-a0000776/), and about Shinto festivals in general [here](http://www.onmarkproductions.com/html/shinto-festivals.html).
> 
> Bleach + vinegar = toxic chlorine gas. Don’t store those chemicals together!!
> 
> Encryption algorithms in computer science are based on higher-end mathematics, which Reborn canonically has a degree in, so of course he’d write his own; he doesn’t trust any of the commercially or illegally available ones, pffft. [Here](https://math.berkeley.edu/~kpmann/encryption.pdf) [are](http://math.tut.fi/~ruohonen/MC.pdf) [some](https://people.math.umass.edu/~gunnells/talks/crypt.pdf) resources!
> 
> If you hover over Eri's French, you'll get an English translation. :D
> 
> The Woodsman Protocol is a reference to the old Japanese folk tale, [the Woodsman and the Old Priest](https://pitt.edu/~dash/japan.html#visu).
> 
>  
> 
> The Author’s Commentary for _Seiryū_ is now up! You can find it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13477200/chapters/30900504), and find the supplemental The Newbie’s Guide to Flames, Revised Edition* [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13474584).
> 
> Comments are my lifeblood and my motivation and I love them all dearly!


	15. 10. hurricanes knocking on the door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are always in-progress: developing, changing, learning, improving. To think them static is to do them a disservice; to expect them to never change is to insult them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder that this fic is rated T for language! (AKA people curse more than usual in this chapter.)
> 
> Also, we're really earning the "Sawada Iemitsu's A+ Parenting" tag in this chapter. Check the ending note for spoilers/warnings, or feel free to skip the section between the eleventh and twelfth line break (ctrl+f "(- - -)" and skipping to the thirteenth one should also get you the same result). You won't miss anything that wasn't covered earlier or later in the chapter.

There’s nothing on the standard lines about why Sawada Iemitsu would leave his post at CEDEF Headquarters in Sicily, and there are no rumors on his movements. In fact there aren’t any indications that he’s doing anything out of the ordinary at all, and Reborn would call Keiko back and ask what the hell is going on if there wasn’t the ill feeling that things have been quiet for too long.

 _I will become the Vongola Mist Guardian in exchange for Ken and Chikusa’s safety_ , Rokudo Mukuro had said. Tsuna had been right, and he is still right: that hadn’t been typical behavior from the self-proclaimed hater of the Cosa Nostra, of the boy that had lashed out at the Estraneo. There is something else here.

Mammon isn’t responding, but Reborn keeps trying different angles at what files he has, what weaknesses he can leverage in CEDEF’s firewalls. His persistence turns up what Keiko’s source must have found, which is Sawada Iemitsu using his _real name_ to arrange for a flight plan from Sicily, Italy to Japan. It’s the most idiotic thing that Reborn has seen in a while, and he has to wonder who had planned out the trip that this would happen. 

But why would the man return now? Reborn leans back in his chair and considers the computer screen. Sawada Iemitsu is not a man known for sentimentality, save for the way he totes around pictures of his son when he’d been six years old. He is not known as a family man, save for the way he brags of his wife and son - and never visits them, Reborn knows, because Lal has griped about this in private for years now.

It can’t be the reports that Reborn has been sending back to Vongola Nono, because he has been doing his best to pare them down to only the absolute essentials: Tsuna being far more academically advanced than his files had suggested, Tsuna accessing Dying Will Mode, Tsuna being eligible as the Vongola’s much needed Decimo candidate. 

And then it hits him, and Reborn curses long and viciously.

He had thought he’d had an _agreement_ with the Namimori branch of the Vongola Construction Company, one where he’d be notified of anything Vongola-related he’d need in order to raise the heir, but perhaps not. Perhaps the Sky of Sawada Iemitsu has a strong enough draw even oceans and half the world away, in order to twist the arm of Borage di Romano into keeping secrets.

Or perhaps, he thinks with growing dread, the rumors are true: that Sawada Iemitsu is one of those Skies who hold fast to the purist philosophy of Skies being in absolute control and having the absolute loyalty of their followers, no matter the personal or ethical lines being crossed.

He’d hoped that Vongola Nono would have had more sense than to appoint one such Sky as the Head of CEDEF and Outside Advisor to the Famiglia, but this has been nine long months of a steep learning curve where he’d learned that the Vongola Nono nine-tenths of the Cosa Nostra know as a kindly grandfather is actually a man who would dare to seal the Flames of a five year old.

“I know you already have good reason to hate Sawada Iemitsu,” he tells Keiko as soon as he’s in the same room as her, Tsuna and his Guardians herded up into Takeshi’s room in order to do their share of the planning. “But how lenient will you be with him?”

Keiko doesn’t frown, but Satomi does, her scowl changing the landscape of her entire face. “It’s a great deal stronger than just ‘ _hate_ ,’” she mutters.

“You don’t care much for him at all,” Keiko notes. Her eyes are sharp, and with Satomi at her left and Eri at her right she could be the very picture of a Cosa Nostra principessa. Reborn blinks away the image, because as accurate as it could be the girl in question would never humor it. “So why ask?”

He pauses, then, wondering where to start. “You are aware of the Vongola Construction Company in Namimori, yes?”

Eri snorts. “Of course. They’ve been useless for the fourteen years they’ve been in Namimori, but somehow that branch has neither expanded nor laid off its workers. It’s an open secret in the rest of the town that it must be a front company for some other illegal organization, and when you came last June claiming Tsunayoshi was the heir to the Vongola…”

Reborn can follow the train of thought from there; and it doesn’t surprise him that Sawada Iemitsu, of all people, would skip over what he must have considered a ‘minor detail’ in the running of the barest of protection for his wife and child but would have kept CEDEF from being suspected. But that Borage di Romano would let such a detail slip…

He doesn’t like the picture this is painting. “That’s right. Vongola Construction Company _is_ a front company, but not for the Vongola Famiglia itself. It’s one for Consulenza Esterna Della Famiglia, or CEDEF. The External Advisors of the Famiglia.”

“Which Sawada Iemitsu is the head of,” Keiko finishes. She looks two seconds away from cursing.

Satomi turns to her, then, and she would seem purely triumphant save for the way there’s still the edge of caution and concern. “I told you we should have taken that company down!”

“And draw unnecessary attention to us?” Eri shoots back. “Then Sawada Iemitsu would have returned to Namimori years before this.”

“And? It would’ve meant we could’ve finished this entire mess years before.”

“Would Tsunayoshi have accepted that, if he didn’t have the support system and incentive he does now? Would it have _worked_?”

“But now that he’s a big-shot heir, everyone’s going to be looking to him. It’ll be even harder to execute Woodsman, and certainly harder than it would’ve been even two years ago.”

“It was always going to be hard to execute Woodsman,” Keiko interrupts, “even with Eri’s contacts. Who are impressive, even by themselves, and you know I appreciate them.”

Eri waves her hand, then. “You don’t need to mention it. I started gathering them because of you two, anyway, so they might as well use their talents for _some_ thing that’s not caused by Satomi being dramatic.”

Reborn files that information away - _because of you two_ , Eri had said, which is both suspicious and interesting at once - and tilts up the brim of his hat to bring the attention back to him. Sitting like this, with the three girls in a three-quarter circle on the living room floor and him taking a seat on the low center table, it feels like a proper conference. “How does Tsuna want to do this?”

At that, something like approval flashes across Satomi’s face and thoughtfulness across Eri’s. Keiko maintains her poker face as she says, “He wants to know why his father is coming back. Depending on that, he’s thinking of playing along with whatever’s been planned just to make it easier later on, or contesting it.”

There’s pride and pain in that tone, and Reborn can understand it, even feels shades of it when he thinks about his student confronting the man that has caused so much suffering in his childhood years. “Currently, it looks like Sawada Iemitsu is returning due to whatever report he’s received from the Namimori branch of CEDEF. What that is, I haven’t been able to discern as of yet.”

“My sources are having issues too,” Eri volunteers, and her voice reveals her fatigue. “Their guess is that everything was done on paper and not digitally, in order to avoid leaving an electronic trail.”

Keiko leans back, and her gaze goes distant. Satomi and Eri give her the space to think, and Reborn does the same, watching Leon drop from his hat to his shoulder to his lap.

“Woodsman on standby, as planned,” she says finally. “Tsuna won’t be at Sawada Nana’s house for the entire week. He’s having a study marathon here, and sleeping over in Takeshi’s room. There’s a spare futon we can roll out for Hayato-kun, and I’ll ask Fuuta if he doesn’t mind using a futon in my room so that Kyoko-chan and Hana-chan can share his. I’ll talk to Bianchi-san about moving I-Pin-chan and Lambo-kun out of the house and into an apartment to avoid the crossfire. Satomi?”

“Dear kaa-chan and tou-san are distracted by darling nii-san and nee-san right now,” Satomi replies, and there is so much honey-sweet venom in her voice that Leon flicks his tongue out and curls his tail around Reborn’s wrist. “I could leave for a two-week trip to Tokyo and they wouldn’t notice. What do you need?”

Keiko pauses infinitesimally, then sighs. “I’m going to regret this later, but can you get a distraction set up in the Vongola Company’s building?”

Satomi immediately smiles. “Incapacitation, decapitation, or obliteration?”

“Incapacitation,” Eri shoots back. “I’ll undermine them from the electronics side, you hassle them in real life. Make their very existence _miserable_.”

Reborn watches Satomi and Eri descend into planning with all the fervor and idea tossing of a high-paced high-stakes tennis match, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Keiko rise. He follows her, and takes the silently offered shoulder when she passes by.

“I don’t presume to order you around,” Keiko starts. Reborn bites back the automatic comment that pride and self-defense demand he give, and waits for the rest of the sentence. “So I’ll ask you this instead: where do you think you’ll end up being, and doing what, until this blows over?”

He takes the moment of them moving upstairs to Takeshi’s room to think about it. “The Iron Fortress hasn’t been responding to any of my attempts to contact them,” he says, “so I’ll tap some other resources. I have someone on Sawada Iemitsu’s inner circle who’s not very fond of him; she might be able to give us some leverage. In the meantime, I’ll stay with Tsuna as much as I can, or make sure he has at least three of his Guardians with him.”

Keiko stops walking, then, in the middle of the hallway to blink at him. “That would be very helpful,” she admits, but it sounds like she’s thinking about it as well as five different things at once. “You already have my number, so use that if anything comes up. I’ll be coordinating everything on our end.”

Reborn nods, and pulls down the brim of his hat as Keiko knocks on the door to Takeshi’s room and opens it to two exhausted, angry, and concerned teenage boys and his student.

**(- - -)**

“Don’t worry about it,” Kyoko-chan says when they talk to her, and her eyes are fierce. “We can always combine my birthday party with a celebration for kicking your tou-san out of Namimori, because seriously, Tsuna-kun, you deserve better than to have to deal with a useless waste of space like him.”

Hayato-kun chokes, but Tsuna’s too exhausted to feel anything other than relief. Still, there’s the candle-flame of awareness at the edge of his mind, the one that’s small compared to the deep lake and building storm that’s Takeshi and Hayato, and it’s crackling with static even as something deeper and more somber is backing it, Ryohei-senpai’s warmer fire like an afterthought at the very last.

Reborn had explained Guardians to him, but Tsuna doesn’t think he meant it quite like this: that Flames would feel like a physical reassurance of home, of his friends, of someone being beside him and supporting him.

“Thank you,” he tells Kyoko-chan instead, who huffs again and flaps her hand. Hana keeps a space between herself and all of them, but nods to Tsuna.

“ _Thank you_ ,” he says again, and Takeshi smacks him on the shoulder at that.

“If you ever need to tap out, we can always call Woodsman,” his best friend tells him. “Nee-chan brought down the gap to five minutes, so we can be out of Namimori hours before he gets here.”

Tsuna inhales slowly, and watches Hayato-kun’s now-relaxed breathing, the knowing looks on Kyoko-chan and Hana-san and Ryohei-senpai’s faces, the way that Reborn peers the window and the door as if his father might appear at any minute. 

Then he says, “I’ll keep that in mind,” and Takeshi smiles wryly.

**(- - -)**

It’s much more difficult with I-Pin and Lambo. The both of them might be fond of kaa-san, and Bianchi-san might have been taking care of them for awhile, but they’re still small. Still children. Still unsure of why they need to leave so suddenly, and move into a new environment like the apartment that Keiko-senpai had recommended and that Eri-san had arranged for.

I-Pin handles it as well as a six year old possibly could, but where she folds inwards Lambo explodes outwards. He wails, he cries, he shouts; Tsuna sees Reborn go for his gun more than once, always refraining from shooting, rubber bullets or not, at the last minute.

Tsuna would be more thankful for it if most of his attention and energy aren’t on trying to calm Lambo down and explain the situation to him. Eventually, when he and Kyoko-chan and even Takeshi aren’t enough, the boy pulls out his bazooka out of his hair.

People back away from Lambo pretty fast after that, and Tsuna side-steps out of the way in time to avoid the pink cloud that springs from the weapon. Even after months of Lambo living in his house it’s still disconcerting to him when the older version of this seemingly perpetually crying child appears, and more so when _this_ one doesn’t start automatically sobbing.

“What happened this time?” the older Lambo drawls out, scruffy-haired with only one eye open in a deceivingly lazy manner. His gaze flicks around the room, settling on the windows and the door first - all of the entry and exit points - before he refocuses on the people in the room.

Reborn hops up onto Tsuna’s shoulder during that split second. “Sawada Iemitsu returned from Sicily,” he says with his eyes shaded by his hat, “for the first time in years.”

As much as he’s concentrating on the sixteen year old in front of him, Tsuna can see when Lambo’s eye widens, ever so slightly. “That’s fun,” he mutters, and shifts on his feet. “I can’t tell you what happens in the future; you know that, right?”

“Of course,” he says before anyone else can. Hayato has always been fascinated by the Bovino’s Ten Year Bazooka, but no matter what he says about advantages, Tsuna is still wary of mucking about with Time itself. “Your younger self just shot himself with the bazooka, actually, because he was upset about us asking him to move out of kaa-san’s house with Bianchi-san.”

“Ahh.” Lambo relaxes, just a little, and shoves his hands into his pockets. “That’s different. Don’t worry about younger me, then; someone on my end will explain it to him.” Then he hesitates.

Tsuna’s suspicion flares, and so does the insight of the Vongola Intuition, and his focus narrows until it’s just his awareness of his friends, his tutor, and the room with I-Pin and Bianchi hovering, uncertain.

“I can’t tell you anything,” Lambo says again, but he sounds desperate. “Just be careful, alright? I’m from your future as it stands right now, but one wrong move, one different _decision_ , and things are different. Stay aware, Tsuna-nii. Tell Keiko-nee-chan I wish her luck.”

Before Tsuna can say anything, the older Lambo is gone in a puff of pink smoke, and in his place stands the six year old. “Lambo-sama will go with Bianchi-nee and I-Pin!” he declares around a mouthful of grape candy. “We can leave now!”

**(- - -)**

(Bianchi-san is tense the entire conversation, though, and when Eri-san mentions that she’ll be moving into the same apartment building as Hayato there’s something strained in her smile.

Tsuna glances at Hayato, then back to Bianchi-san; and when there’s a moment, pulls Eri-san aside and asks if she can look into Ms. Lavina just a little further than what basic information they have. 

“Just-” This is hard to explain, and Tsuna runs a hand through his hair, frazzled. “I don’t want to undermine Hayato’s privacy, or Bianchi-san’s. But I know there’s tension between them because of Hayato’s mother, so if there’s any information about her that he might want to know about-”

Eri-san puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, and there’s a similar feeling of reassurance and warmth from her, of something quietly dangerous being on his side. “I’ll look into it, Tsunayoshi-kun.”)

**(- - -)**

Eleven hours and twenty-eight minutes after they’d received the warning, Reborn watches from a surveillance feed as two black vans pull up into the street outside of Sawada Nana’s house. Beside him, Tsuna’s breath hitches when a scruffy blond dressed in a construction worker’s overalls steps out of the second car, even as he’s almost immediately surrounded by men in suits.

Takeshi is glaring at the man walking across the screen with obvious distaste, even while Hayato breathes slowly in the way of someone trying to keep their temper. In the end it’s Hana that says out loud what the room must be thinking: “What an idiot.”

Kyoko starts laughing helplessly, wheezing out, “He’s such a 外人!”

Tsuna whips his head around to her, eyes wide and mouth widening, just as Takeshi scratches his head. “He must be; he looks like a くそじじい.”

The room breaks into startled laughter at that. Hayato slowly starts to relax and even Tsuna leans into the mass of bodies that have gathered around him, and quietly, stealthily, Kyoko and Takeshi share a satisfied look.

Reborn keeps the majority his attention on the surveillance feed, flicking between cameras to track Sawada Iemitsu’s movement through the house. For every three bugs that Reborn had put down the man spots two, and the two subordinates that file in after him remove them without a word.

The kids refocus in time to see almost all of Reborn’s surveillance go down save for the ones he’d hid in the most convoluted of places, and to hear Iemitsu’s words over the small speakers he’d set up in Takeshi’s room: “My darling Nana! How’re you? How is my dear Tuna-fish?”

Sawada Nana leans back from Iemitsu’s embrace just enough to giggle, but it sounds strained, with just a little of the shine worn off of it. “Iemitsu, you didn’t let me know you were coming! I don’t have anything ready at all - sit, sit,” she adds, leaning over her husband’s shoulder to the subordinates discreetly moving back her items and furniture, “I’ll whip up something in just a minute.”

Iemitsu stops her before she can leave, twirling her around to press a peck to her cheek. “You know I love your cooking, my dear,” he says, and there’s something to his tone that makes Hana lean back as if burned; beside her, Kyoko wraps an arm around her shoulder and hangs on. “But I’m willing to talk to our cute Tuna-fish while we’re waiting for it! Where is he?”

Nana flutters her hand, disentangling herself from Iemitsu’s grip, and even watching from a mere computer screen Reborn can tell that she does it with some difficulty. “Oh, he’s spending the week at a friend’s - they’re studying over the summer, can you imagine? But Tsu-kun said he’s doing it with all of his friends, and really, they’re all such cute children.”

Iemitsu’s subordinates startle - had been expecting their boss’s kid to be as flaky as his stories must have led them to believe, Reborn concludes - but the Head of CEDEF is too good to let his feelings show on his face, no matter his failings. “Oh, really? Where are they now, then?”

“They’re at Yamamoto Takeshi’s house,” Nana answers, and beams. It, too, looks stressed. “Darling, are you sure you don’t want to wait here while I make something? It’ll be quick-”

Iemitsu leans in again to peck her on the cheek. “I’m sure it will be, but don’t worry, I’ll be back as fast as lightning! I wouldn’t miss your cooking for the world, my dear. Here, I’ll even leave Prezzemolo with you-” the named man straightens at the sudden attention, “- and he can call me if I’m running late. How’s that?”

Nana opens her mouth, but bites back whatever she’d been about to say at the last minute and pouts instead. “I’ll be making enough for everyone, then.”

**(- - -)**

Keiko texts Reborn just the once before he heads out, leaving the kids to their own preparations: _Heads up_ , it reads, _Kyouya’s people are going to be tailing you and S. Iemitsu on your way home._

(He smiles at the warning, just a little, and Leon licks his hand after shifting from a phone back to his natural skin.)

Reborn meets Sawada Iemitsu as he’s walking from Sawada Nana’s house to the Yamamoto’s, and he drops down from a tree branch when he judges he’s the least expected. “Ciaossu.”

“Reborn,” the man acknowledges after a moment’s hesitance, and tips his head. Behind him and beside him his subordinates spread out, surrounding them. Reborn isn’t sure if it’s mean to prevent people from listening in or to prevent him from leaving. “How’s my son?”

Interesting, of how that’s his opening question. “Improving. What brought the Head of the Consulenza Esterna Della Famiglia to Namimori?”

Iemitsu pauses. “Famiglia business,” he says eventually. “I’d like to tell Tsuna directly. Can you lead me to him?”

The man phrases it as a question, but the tone clearly implies it is not one. Reborn very carefully does not allow himself to react to it, or to the Sky Flames that Sawada Iemitsu is emitting at high enough levels to be suffocating his subordinates, and turns on his heel. “Follow me.”

The town is surprisingly quiet, for a sunny spring day in the middle of March, and Sawada Iemitsu tries to engage him in conversation the entire way there. Reborn stays silent and doesn’t let him, immediately aware of the watchers using the town’s streets to their advantage to avoid CEDEF’s notice, and eventually the attempts taper off.

(He doesn’t blame Keiko for arranging for this: Sawada Iemitsu is the man that consented to a seal on Tsuna’s Flames, after all, and her comment of the seal being _the equivalent of a neurodegenerative disease_ still echoes in his ears every so often.

And even now when they’ve almost reached their destination, there are tendrils of Sky wafting from the man, coiled around his subordinates and trying to court Reborn. On the surface it is clear and powerful; but underneath, there is a harshness to it that makes him think of worse times.)

Tsuna meets them outside the house, flanked by Takeshi and Kyoko. “Welcome back,” he greets as Reborn leaps onto his shoulder, and even from his perch he can tell that Tsuna’s eyes are hard when his student turns to the gathered mafioso.

“Tuna-fish! You’re all grown up!” Sawada Iemitsu beams and opens his arms, seemingly oblivious, and is going in for an embrace with a subtle rolling of Sky Flames when Tsuna steps back.

Then Reborn’s student asks, “I’m sorry, who are you?” as if he's meeting an uncomfortable stranger for the first time.

Everyone present pauses. Takeshi’s shoulders start shaking, just a little, while Kyoko keeps her straight face and slight smile. The subordinates behind Sawada Iemitsu look poleaxed. The man himself stills.

“Tsuna,” he says carefully, uncertainly, “you mean you don’t remember me?”

Reborn takes his cue. “Tsuna, this is your father, Sawada Iemitsu. He’s returned from Italy to speak with you.” 

Tsuna stares down his so-called father as if he doesn’t see the mafioso behind him, and maybe he doesn’t. “I’d offer to move this conversation inside,” he starts, “except that I don’t think there’s enough room for all of your friends, tou-san. Why don’t we go to a café and talk?”

Sawada Iemitsu agrees readily enough, eyeing Kyoko and Takeshi with interest, and Reborn carefully does not scowl at the calculative edge to the man’s gaze. Instead he stays close to Tsuna, makes sure that the kids have their weapons, and keeps Leon on the brim of his hat.

**(- - -)**

“I’m sorry,” Tsuna says, pressing his face into his hands. “I thought - I thought I could be more objective, when dealing with _him_. But-”

Takeshi scowls. “Never apologize for that, Tsuna. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Kyoko nods in agreement next to him, shoulder tucked in next to Tsuna’s, Hayato hovering behind them all and glaring at the door.

Reborn doesn’t sigh. “I know you wanted to stay open to what Iemitsu had to say, Tsuna,” he says finally, “and you might have failed to do exactly that, but that’s fine. It wasn’t his right to ask after your relationship with your Guardians, or to judge them.”

“He asked why I didn’t ‘have Hibari Kyouya,’” Tsuna growls out. There is anger and disbelief and protectiveness all combined into one dark tone. “Like Hibari-san is - is-”

He can’t even finish the thought. Reborn frowns, as Leon turns into a phone and offers up a blip of a notification.

“Imagine him saying that to nee-chan’s face, though,” Takeshi offers, and though he’d said it in a neutral tone there’s vindictive glee on his face. 

At that Tsuna laughs, and even though it’s strangled it’s enough to make Kyoko and Hayato relax. “He’s going to _die_.”

Reborn slips out of the room now imagining - vividly and gruesomely - just how Yamamoto Keiko or even Hibari Kyouya himself would respond to Sawada Iemitsu’s insinuations, and nods to Satomi.

The girl tucks her phone back into a pocket and straightens from her lean against the wall. “Walking or sitting down?”

“We can do this sitting,” Reborn responds immediately, because he has the funny feeling that CEDEF will try to pin him down if they move outside of the Yamamoto’s home to draw out Tsuna. Satomi humors him, allowing him an easy jump into her arms so that they can claim the sitting room.

“So,” she starts without preamble, leaning forward in her chair and with her eyes sharp, “I didn’t bring this up before because it’s none of my business, but recent events have _made_ it my business. What are your intentions towards Keiko?”

“...what?” Reborn will deny this to his dying day, but at this moment he is thoroughly, terribly confused. “How is this relevant?”

“Because Sawada Iemitsu is starting to sniff around the people who spend a lot of time with Tsuna-kun, and he’s even gone after Hibari-chan. To his _house_.” Satomi stresses the last word, and there is something that he is missing here. Something very, very important. “She might not seem that way, but I’ve known Keiko for years. That’s going to rattle her.”

Reborn considers Matsuoka Satomi and the way she has lowered her voice, her tone going defensive like a Guardian’s or a Primary’s would - or, he thinks, a best friend. “Does this have anything to do with what you all call the Scorched Earth incident?”

Satomi leans back, very slowly, and her smile is approving as she says, “So they told you about that.”

“Tsuna said that you were responsible for eighty-percent of it,” he adds.

“Keiko and Eri say that too, but really, they’re no better. If I’m responsible for eighty-percent then they’re sharing at least three-quarters of the blame.”

The mathematician in Reborn is frazzled that the numbers aren’t adding up, but the prospect of a solid answer is too tantalizing. “What happened, exactly?”

Her smile drops away. “The short version is that Namimori is a small town and acts the way all small towns do: with convoluted connections and family relations and people who really should keep their noses out of other people’s business. The long version is not my place to tell you.”

Reborn thinks about that, and the way that Satomi had sat earlier with Keiko: to her left and watching her back. “Would Keiko tell me?”

“Perhaps,” she says vaguely, and waves a hand. “But back to what I originally wanted to talk about. What are your intentions towards Keiko? And yes, this might be a bad time to ask, but I need to know where you stand. You were contracted to teach Tsuna-kun by the Vongola, who supports CEDEF. If this turns into a fight between them and her, what will you do?”

He tilts his head up so that he can meet Satomi’s eyes. “I am a freelancer,” he says simply, “and my contact is with Vongola Nono, not with CEDEF, to teach Sawada Tsunayoshi. Supporting Yamamoto Keiko, a fellow tutor, would be the most beneficial for both myself and my student.”

Satomi stares at him for a long, tense moment; Reborn breathes out, tasting the latent Dying Will in the air, before she nods to him. “Then you have my blessing.”

If he were anyone else other than the World’s Greatest Hitman, he would have choked at that; as it is, Satomi smirks at him when he stiffens, the _brat_.

**(- - -)**

They’re discussing what to do about CEDEF’s bomb of an announcement - the perpetrator behind the Cradle Affair being de-iced, and once upon a time Reborn might have felt sympathy for the man, but now he has his student to think about - when Eri gets a call. 

She steps out of the room and Reborn watches her go even as Ryohei is muttering, “This is extremely messed up.”

Takeshi raises his eyebrows at that. “Which part? At the years-old forced coma, or the fact that Vongola Nono doesn’t deserve the name?”

“Either? Both?” Ryohei runs a bandaged hand through his hair, his expression uncharacteristically grave. “It’s supposed to be simple: kids are kids. You protect them, and maybe sometimes you need to sit them down and explain something hard, but you don’t make their lives harder. It doesn’t matter if it’s your child or a younger sibling. Like - if someone gave Kyoko a hard time, I would extremely pummel them!”

“Not if I get there first,” Hana mutters, and Kyoko pats her on the hand.

Ryohei continues after an acknowledging nod in the girls’ direction. “But this Vongola-jiji didn’t do that. Maybe he didn’t care for Tsuna, because he wasn’t blood family, but doing it to his own son…” The boy scowls, and it makes him look less like an oblivious idiot and more like the boxing champion he is. “That is extremely unforgivable.”

A Sun with moral and ethical boundaries and the combat skills to match them, Reborn thinks, and is pleased.

Eri slips back in, though, and the room’s attention turns to her. Her expression is grave, a little stressed. “Keiko is going to be unavailable for the rest of the day,” she says. “I’m now the point of contact until further notice.”

Tsuna and Takeshi look knowing and worried at once. Reborn tilts up his hat. “Where is she now?”

“At my house; Satomi is with her. I’ll be dropping by in an hour with some of her things, and escorting Fuuta there.” Eri pauses, then sits down cross-legged on Takeshi’s floor. “She says that she’ll be fine by tomorrow, but these things usually take time.”

The curious thing is, the kids take one look at Tsuna and Takeshi’s expressions and swallow down any questions they might have, regardless of the effort it must take them to do so. Reborn remembers the way Keiko will stay silent more often than not, of how the spar with Hibari is scheduled and the hours before are spent lying down, and Leon curls up on his wrist. 

“Tell her I’ll proceed as planned,” he asks Eri. “And to let me know if anything changes.”

Gratifyingly, Eri doesn't hesitate before she says, “Of course,” and Reborn wonders just how tightly she and Satomi and Keiko must be in communication with each other in order for her to have that knowing gleam to her eye. 

**(- - -)**

Briefly before midnight, he asks Leon to turn into a phone and dials a number he hasn’t had much reason to call in the last year. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this, to avoid forcing her between a rock and a hard place, between loyalty to a fellow Arcobaleno and her loyalty to her boss.

But she is a strong woman, one of the strongest that she’s ever seen; and she is not beholden to any Sky, much less a deplorable one like Sawada.

True to character, she doesn’t make him wait too long before picking up. There’s background noise, loud and made of several people shouting at once, but the voice that comes through is unmistakable. “Lal Mirch. What the hell, Reborn?”

“Ciaossu.” He leans back in his chair and stares at the surveillance feed, alone, hyper aware of the kids sleeping in the room next door. “What do you think about Sawada Iemitsu, Lal?”

There’s a pause, as if she’s trying to figure out what he really means, before she snorts. The background noise dies away; it’s most likely she’s moving into another and far more private room. “What’s up with the sudden curiosity? You get extremely delayed cold feet on your recent contract or something?”

“Sawada is _here_ , Lal, in Japan and harassing my student.”

“Since when did you care about when someone was harassing your students?” Lal snipes, but sobers in the next moment. “If you’re asking if I knew about it, I didn’t. Sawada booked himself a flight plan and hightailed it out of here with barely five minutes for a warning. I’ve spent the last twenty four _fucking_ hours cleaning up the mess he made. What’s he done now?”

“The more accurate question is, what _hasn’t_ he done. Is there anything you can tell me about him that I wouldn’t find on a dossier? Arcobaleno to Arcobaleno.”

Even through a phone call, Reborn can imagine Lal stilling. He’s the World’s Greatest Hitman; he almost never admits that he’s the Sun Arcobaleno, because the curse has already taken so many things from him, and why should he allow it to take his legacy?

(But people always see the Pacifier before they see the gun, and after years of it Reborn is hanging onto even this much of his old self by his fingernails.)

“He’s a decent Outside Advisor,” Lal says finally. “A decent Sky? Not so much. Every time he flares his Flames I want to kick him in the balls or resign. What are you trying to say, Reborn?”

He pulls down the brim of his hat and stares at Sawada’s figure on the flickering computer screen. This simply confirms his initial judgement of the man, but to think that even Lal Mirch, infamous for being steady and keeping a tight leash on her temper as the best espionage specialist in the world, would question Sawada’s judgment… “You’re the next Head of CEDEF, right?”

If she were anyone else other than Lal Mirch, she might have choked. As it is, the only reaction Reborn gets from her is the barest hitch of breath. “The hell I am! I’m here because it pays the bills and makes me allies in high places, not because it’s my dream job.”

He’s already introduced Colonello to the kids and to Keiko; if he has to introduce anyone else, it might as well be Lal. “When you’ve resigned or finally castrated Sawada, come to Japan. There’s someone here I think you’d like to meet.”

**(- - -)**

The next two days are tense, as Sawada Iemitsu lazes about Nana’s house drinking beer while his CEDEF lackeys poke around Namimori. The kids plan and train and worry, especially when word comes back via Satomi running ‘errands’ that Keiko’s having a sluggish recovery. They even plan on visiting with flowers and get-well gifts, the CEDEF scrutiny be damned, before Reborn puts his foot down.

(And isn’t that a memorable conversation? The World’s Greatest Hitman versus six kids with good intentions, but who need to be reminded that unfortunately, visiting Yamamoto Keiko would be the same as visiting Bianchi or I-Pin or Lambo: drawing CEDEF’s attention to where they cannot afford it.)

But the détente breaks when there’s a rolling of Cloud Flames, larger and angrier than Reborn has ever experienced in quiet Namimori, and Tsuna’s head snaps up and his eyes widen in horror. Beside him, Takeshi doesn’t look any better. 

Satomi’s face hardens, even as she rises with a graceful movement that sets off alarm bells in Reborn’s head. “Oh no he _didn’t_ ,” she fairly snarls, and flips open her phone to hit two buttons for speed dial.

Tsuna’s getting up not long after her, Takeshi on his heels and Hayato, attuned and in sync with them after months of work, bringing up the rear. Kyoko and Hana remain seated over their color-coded and pinned map of Namimori, while Ryohei tightens his bandages over his knuckles.

Reborn hops onto his student’s shoulder as they wait for Satomi’s call to connect. “Eri,” she snaps out as soon as it does, “ _please_ tell me that I can eviscerate Sawada Iemitsu.”

One moment; then two. Then Satomi smiles, slowly and with teeth. “Tell Keiko I’ll be on standby, then.”

She hangs up before Eri can undoubtedly finish her sentence, but judging by the tinny voice coming through her speaker before she shuts her phone, Eri is cursing her out. Reborn pushes the amusement and the curiosity away in time for Tsuna to drag in a breath. “Is-”

Satomi blinks and looks over to them again, as if remembering that she’s not the only one in the room; then she smiles, and it’s wry and pained and chagrined. “Keiko grabbed her sword and headed out, apparently. Eri is going to be running damage control with her cute contacts, while Chrome-chan and Fuuta-kun stay put. Tsuna, I wouldn’t be surprised if your _honorable_ tou-san visited in the next few hours to brag about how he’s found a way to ‘convince Hibari Kyouya to be your Cloud Guardian.’”

The girl says the last with that same honey-sweet venom from before, and Reborn can feel Tsuna tense. “That man is _not_ my father,” he mutters, even as Takeshi and Hayato close ranks behind him. “Do you think it’s going to be a second Scorched Earth, Satomi-san?”

“Worse,” Satomi returns breezily, and flips her hair over her shoulder in one casual movement. “Because Keiko won’t be holding back, this time.”

“Time out for the people who are very confused,” Hana speaks up from the back, and Tsuna turns to look at her. “Would this… ‘Scorched Earth’ you’re talking about be the Takishita-Momokyokai Incident from two years ago?”

“The very same.” 

Hana nods, now no longer concerned. “Alright. I just wanted to know. Thank you, Satomi-san.”

“No problem, Hana-chan.”

Namimori is a small town, Reborn reminds himself, and pulls down his hat. At this rate, one of these days he’s going to sit Yamamoto Keiko down and _bribe_ an answer out of her.

**(- - -)**

Satomi springs her distraction in the Vongola Construction Company’s offices, and the entire building is harried by multiple incidents of spontaneous combustion of various rooms and a cockroach infestation that Iemitsu whines about to his wife. Eventually Kyoko and Hana bring in popcorn to munch on while watching the surveillance feed as if it’s a soap opera, dragging Tsuna out of his anxiety-ridden funk and bringing a much-needed hilarity to a situation that’s gotten serious.

Sawada Iemitsu does end up returning to the Yamamoto household to gloat about Hibari Kyouya, but is rebuffed by Tsuna’s coldness. The entirety of the man refusing - or being unable - to understand his son’s unwillingness to force people into a place they do not want is painful to watch. Tsuna’s Guardians take their places beside and around him, though, in a very obvious show of support, and eventually even the Young Lion must admit defeat.

But he asks for a meeting with the mafia tutor not two hours later. Reborn’s hesitant about it. Tsuna is still staying at the Yamamoto house, and he might have five Guardians but they are all still kids: still young, and still mortal in the face of CEDEF’s guns and manpower.

In the end Keiko stares at him in silence for two minutes over a video call, fatigued and wearing Satomi’s hoodie and with the chameleon ear-cuff glinting from her ear, barely visible beneath Eri’s blankets, before she nods. “Return safely.”

Reborn doesn’t think that Sawada will succeed at whatever he’s planning, if it’s meant to ensnare him, but nods to Keiko anyway.

**(- - -)**

The Young Lion’s invitation is for a meeting in a private office in CEDEF’s Namimori branch, and Reborn bites back a chuckle as he passes over the threshold. He can spot Satomi’s minimal surveillance as he passes, having gone undetected for years, and finds two recording devices that he doesn’t bother telling Iemitsu about when the man opens the door.

“Thank you for coming, Reborn,” the man says, and collapses into his chair. Reborn eyes the one that’s been provided to him, which doesn’t have any steps: an insult and a concession both at once. He makes the leap up seem effortless, though, and settles.

“What’s this about?”

“Did you notice anything… odd, about Tsuna when you arrived?” Sawada sounds delicate, diplomatic, and that’s not overtly surprising; he couldn’t have stayed the Head of CEDEF if he hadn’t been able to be strategic every once in a while. 

But there’s an edge to the man’s Sky Flames that Reborn remains wary of, and he’s thinking of Borage di Romano and her sudden leave of absence from Namimori as he says, “No. Should I have?”

Sawada leans into his personal space then, as if he and Reborn are on the same side of this conflict. “I’m worried that there’s someone manipulating Tsuna,” he murmurs.

Reborn blinks slowly and is pleased when the man looks startled. “Do you have any proof of that?”

“My little Tuna-fish wouldn’t be like this!” Sawada leans back out of his space, _grazie al cielo_ , but then wails. “Not remembering his own father? Insisting that he knows best, even though he’s only fourteen? I’ve even tried to secure him a stronger Cloud Guardian, and he rejects it! There must be something wrong here! And,” he adds when Reborn is still processing his train of thought, “there’s the matter of his being so close to Yamamoto Tsuyoshi and his family.”

Okay, _what_? “Yamamoto Takeshi is his Rain Guardian.”

“Yes, yes, I know that.” Sawada waves his hand, dismissing Reborn’s comment in such a casual and conceited way that sets his teeth on edge. “But really, spending time with a former assassin whose eldest child can’t even be tracked down? You know, I was told that she was my dear Tuna-fish’s tutor for the last four years. Where is she then?”

Reborn is the World’s Greatest Hitman; he doesn’t hesitate, but he debates the merits of telling Sawada Iemitsu anything, even if it’s the most inane of things. In the end he settles on saying, “She’s in her last year before university; the last I heard from her, she’s using the summer break to study.”

“A likely excuse.” Sawada’s eyes are bright and the room becomes warmer, the pressure heavier; Reborn breathes in and holds it, feeling Leon’s tail curl around the back of his neck. “What I think is that the girl is the linchpin behind all of this. Nana says that Yamamoto Keiko is the one who’s been changing things and whispering in Tsuna’s ear for years. If she’s out of the picture, then he’ll listen to me.”

He is the World’s Greatest Hitman, and he cannot shoot the _fucking Outside Advisor to the Vongola_. 

“I don’t take hits on civilians, much less on someone that my student has been working with and looking up to for the last five years. It would destroy the trust that I’ve been working to build with him for the last nine months.”

Sawada’s response is immediate and casual. “Of course, of course. Don’t worry about it, Reborn. I’ll make sure it’s taken cared of. All you need to do is make sure that Tsuna is on track to be the Vongola Decimo. We can’t have Xanxus inheriting the Famiglia, after all!”

Reborn resists the urge to flex his hand. He needs a timeframe on this, on how fast Sawada will be moving. “When can I expect this?”

If his eyes had been bright before, then Sawada is nigh burning with it now; Sky Flames press against his skin insistently, trying to force its way underneath, trying to be enticing but only succeeding in being repulsive. Reborn grits his teeth and bears it.

“Pretty much immediately,” Sawada says, and the bastard seems _proud_.

**(- - -)**

As soon as he’s out of the building and has made sure that he’s shaken his tail, Reborn heads to Eri’s house with a Leon-phone in hand. It feels like the few moments that it takes for the call to go through stretches into infinity.

Then it connects, and Eri’s voice drifts over the line. “Reborn?”

“Where’s Keiko? Who’s with her?”

In his experience with her Takei Eri’s tone is nearly always formal, but here it gains a much sharper edge. “She’s at my house. Chrome-chan is with her, as is Fuuta-kun. I’m with Tsunayoshi-kun and the other kids. What’s wrong?”

“Get to Keiko immediately.” Reborn hops over three fences, climbs a tree, and jumps onto the roofs as soon as there’s a good stretch of them. “Sawada Iemitsu’s made his move. He’ll be sending someone after her.”

“And right now she’s in no state to defend herself, much less move from bed.” Eri starts cursing even as Reborn hangs up and hits two buttons immediately afterwards.

The phone rings. Keeps ringing. Then a woman’s automated voice says, “The person you’re trying to reach is not available. Please leave-”

He hits _Disconnect_ , then the same two buttons again. Listens to the phone ring, and ring, and ring.

“The person you’re-”

Disconnect. Speed dial. The phone rings.

**(- - -)**

In the end it’s Dokuro Chrome that sparks Dying Will, flooding Eri’s house with Mist that clings to him even as he slips through the hallways. There are bodies strewn haphazardly across the floor, in various stages of unconsciousness, and Reborn steps over them all with his spare pistol in hand.

“Reborn-san?” the girl herself asks when he reaches the heart of the house, where he’d left Keiko not even a few hours before. Her eyes are wide but her hands are steady where they’re gripping a Mist-constructed naginata with practiced ease.

“Chrome.” Reborn eyes a subordinate that he recognizes from Sawada’s entourage and knocks him again on the head with perhaps more force than strictly necessary. “What happened?”

“I don’t - I don’t know? These men just crashed through the windows downstairs and Keiko-san has been staring at the wall for the last hour and Fuuta said that no one else would be coming in time, and, and-” Chrome swallows, but tightens her grip on her weapon. “And then _this_ happened.”

 _This_ undoubtedly means the light covering of indigo Flames that are still burning merrily in the corners of the hallway and lighting up the blade of her weapon, and Reborn pulls himself up out of his head long enough to tip his head to her. “Congratulations on sparking your Flames, Chrome. I need you to let go of it now, though.”

“Oh. Oh, right.” Chrome breathes out shakily, and opens her hands to drop her naginata into thin air, and the movement takes the rest of the Mist Flames in the house with her. Not a moment after she’s swaying on her feet, and if Reborn were his old size he would have been able to steady her; as it is Fuuta lunges in to shove an arm under her shoulder as best he can.

Eri and Satomi burst in while Fuuta is slowly lowering Chrome to the floor, the former with her gun and the latter with switchblades in hand. Reborn leaps up onto Satomi’s shoulder as she runs past him. “Where’s Tsuna?”

“Takeshi’s room,” she replies distractedly. “Damn it, Keiko.”

Reborn stays silent as they move through the house, wary of assassins that never appear. It would be good to give Chrome training, he thinks, especially if Tsuna will dig in his heels about not forcing Rokudo into the Mist Guardian spot; but he shelves that thought for later, when Satomi skids around a corner and reaches the living room where Keiko had been set up with her blankets. 

True to Chrome’s word, she’s staring at the wall. Reborn flares his Flames on instinct, trying to ascertain if she’s drugged, because usually Keiko is far sharper than this and more aware of her surroundings, and they’re making such a racket downstairs so surely -

Satomi kneels down before her best friend, her face grave and worried and resigned. She has an earpiece in her ear that she taps at. “Found her. Worse than this morning. Do the usual?”

Eri’s voice crackles across Reborn’s Leon-earbud as well. “Alright. Let me know what you need.”

“This doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it gets bad,” Satomi says after a moment. She’s side-eyeing him even as he leaps down to take the two steps to the edge of Keiko’s blankets, and she shifts so that she’s sitting down with an arm wrapped tightly around Keiko’s shoulders. “Eri and I split it up: whoever’s closer stays with her, while the other tracks down anyone who might try something and makes sure they don’t.”

Reborn tightens his grip around his gun. “Is this because of her depression, or something else?”

Satomi blinks slowly, and in that moment she is the most dangerous thing in the room. Reborn would be impressed if he weren’t so concerned about the low-banked fire that Keiko’s Flames have become. “I’d ask who told you about that, but you probably figured it out yourself. Touché; it’s sort of, but not really. Right now you can either keep watch or go make yourself useful, I don’t care which.”

He stays for a while and watches as Satomi starts chattering about the most inane of things, of chemistry-based rockets and universities they’re considering and idiots deserving to get smacked, and doesn’t comment when she slips an omamori into Keiko’s hand.

Just before he leaves, Keiko blinks. “Welcome back,” Satomi says dryly, but there’s an undercurrent of relief. “Got lost in your own head again?”

Keiko rubs at her eyes and blinks again. “Things got weird,” she mutters. “Everything got too loud too fast and then the fucking idiot went after _Kyouya_ , and it was either strangling him or tapping out and I ran out of energy before I could do anything.”

The latter half of the sentence doesn’t make any sense to Reborn but it must mean something to Satomi, because she nods and shakes Keiko’s shoulder. “Sawada Iemitsu also tried to assassinate you, so there’s that.”

There’s a cold, frosted edge to Satomi’s words that Keiko either doesn’t hear or chooses to ignore. “...did he go after Tsuna or Takeshi?”

Satomi hisses through her teeth. “No, just you.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s good.” Keiko leans into her friend, just a little. “I don’t much care about it, then.”

Satomi immediately starts protesting, her latent Dying Will fairly surging into the air, and Reborn breathes through the faint taste of Flames. _Merde_.

“You can’t just ignore an attempt on your life-”

“I know how to deal with them, Satomi, but Takeshi doesn’t. Tsuna doesn’t. And all I wanted for them was that they be able to _choose_. If playing bait means that Sawada Iemitsu won’t be giving them a hard time anymore-”

“For how long?” Satomi seethes. “How long do you think Sawada will try, until he succeeds? He’s the sort of man that fixates on something that he doesn’t like, and right now it’s the fact that a _woman_ is influencing his son. I’ve seen the videos,” she adds before either Reborn or Keiko can say anything. “That’s not the behavior of a man who respects his wife, and certainly not the behavior of a man who loves his son like he claims. He wants control, wants the validation without understanding that his family are people first, and you’re standing in his way.”

There’s silence, after that. Keiko is solemn; Reborn blinks and works through Satomi’s analysis of Sawada Iemitsu, the Young Lion of the Vongola. It is, he thinks with dread, startlingly accurate. 

And Keiko had said before, when Satomi had mentioned the man’s nigh suicidal choice to send assassins, _I know how to deal with them._

“So what do you suggest doing? He’s the Outside Advisor to the Vongola, Satomi. You can’t make him disappear without problems cropping up, and fighting back will just draw more attention.”

“Not responding is equally unacceptable.” Keiko’s and Satomi’s attention both snap to him, and Reborn tilts up his hat. “You were already planning retaliation on Hibari Kyouya’s behalf, Keiko. Now consider that the rest of-” _us_ , “- your friends are equally as upset about this as you were for Hibari. You don’t need to kill a man to make a point.”

“What’re you thinking of?” Satomi asks after a silent moment, where Keiko’s attention finally sharpens back to something like her normal awareness and her Flames steady themselves, the Sky slipping back into the room.

Reborn sweeps the room one last time with his eyes - this is Takei Eri’s domain; knowing the girl, it’s unthinkable that she would allow any surveillance within her walls, let alone a room where she’d left an ailing friend - and allows himself to smirk. “I can make Sawada Iemitsu leave in the next three days. You have until then, Satomi, to deliver on your promised ‘second Scorched Earth.’”

Slowly, Satomi’s grin starts to match his. Keiko stares at the both of them and then ducks back underneath her blankets, but her Flame soars up to where it’d been before: full of supportive Harmonization, the way all good Skies should be.

**(- - -)**

“Rokudo Mukuro.”

The boy opens both his eyes to stare at him, lounging on a sofa that’s falling apart in the middle of a concrete-floor and peeling-paint room as if he’s a king in his kingdom, but Reborn is the World’s Greatest Hitman. He is not intimidated by a case of heterochromia, nor by Ken or Chikusa hovering at his back in concern.

When he’s sure he has Rokudo’s attention, Reborn flicks up the brim of his fedora and smiles grimly. “How would you like to make the life of Sawada Iemitsu, the Outside Advisor to the Vongola Famiglia, a living nightmare?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: Sawada Iemitsu believes that he should be "the man of the house" and that his feelings, opinions, and decisions are what his wife and child should listen to and follow. He is truly the epitome of a parent who refuses to let their kid grow to be independent, and is completely willing to take drastic measures to make sure he's the only 'important' one in their life.
> 
>  
> 
> ...now that's out of the way, I know I keep repeating this, but really all of you reviewers are the best. Whenever I feel down you guys always cheer me up, and your comments and theories and questions push me to keep writing for this series. <333
> 
> Notes for this chapter:
> 
> Hover over Kyoko and Takeshi's Japanese for translations! If you're interested, you can find a good Japanese slang dictionary [here](http://www.languagerealm.com/japanese/japaneseslang_ku.php).
> 
> Trying to establish control over your child's life the way that Sawada Iemitsu does is incredibly toxic, unhealthy, and terrible. Learn how to recognize a toxic parent [here](http://www.lifehack.org/350678/13-signs-toxic-parent-that-many-people-dont-realize), and learn how to recognize that _you're_ a toxic parent [here](https://www.rd.com/advice/parenting/signs-youre-a-toxic-parent/).
> 
> Naginata are a type of traditional Japanese bladed pole weapon that is considered the iconic weapon of the warrior women of the Japanese nobility! They're really cool and you can read more about them [here](http://ny-naginata.org/about/).
> 
> Dissociation isn't strictly tied to depression as a symptom, etc, but it does show up as a symptom of other serious things like post traumatic stress disorder. You can read someone's testimony about dissociation [here](https://autofspoons.com/dissociation/) and learn about how to help someone during one [here](http://dissociationawareness.tumblr.com/post/123050775947/things-you-can-do-for-someone-whos-dissociating). (And yes, the author sometimes dissociates. It's never fun.)
> 
>    
> Comments are my lifeblood and my motivation and I love them all dearly!


	16. 11. some nights we light on fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it’s better to slice the bridges clean before you burn them. Sometimes it’s better to cut your losses than to stick around. And sometimes, property damage is just the thing you need to calm down some middle schoolers who are justly angry.

It’s a pain negotiating with Rokudo Mukuro, but Reborn does it.

(It’s not like Rokudo has a leg to stand on, anyway, and Tsuna’s _We might have a leak_ is still a warning that Reborn carries. Nonetheless he drives the bargain fast and hard, mindful of how much he can and can’t tell the renegade, and afterwards plans countless of contingencies just in case Rokudo oversteps his bounds.)

**(- - -)**

The men that Sawada had sent to assassinate Keiko are his own, from the CEDEF entourage he’d brought from Sicily, and Reborn takes great pleasure in dumping them in the Namimori Police’s drunk tank alongside a file that will make Interpol sit up and pay attention to this one. Eri’s called someone over to clean up the house by the time he returns, and he stares at the crew from Keiko’s shoulder without blinking, Leon-earbud in his ear and his pistol in hand.

Satomi only nods approvingly to him when she returns to see the clean-up crew carefully skirting around Keiko, and Reborn nods back.

As soon as the men are gone, Keiko starts arguing with Satomi again, picking up from whatever thought they’d left off when he’d been gone. “I can stay here just fine-”

“They know where you are, Keiko, if you’re going to do this you need to move-”

“I might’ve agreed to retaliation but that doesn’t mean I can’t-”

“By all the little gods if you say _play bait_ I’m going to kidnap you to Mt. Fuji, Keiko. I will,” Satomi adds, when Keiko blinks. “Don’t think that Eri wouldn’t help me.”

There’s a moment where the two girls have a staring contest. Reborn has a half-view of it, from where he’s sitting on Keiko’s shoulder, but even from this angle it’s obvious that they’re both extremely serious about their respective stances.

He’s thinking about intervening himself when Eri sweeps back into the room, Chrome and Fuuta on her heels; both of the kids go immediately to Keiko, who opens up her arms for them and smiles apologetically at Reborn when he jumps off in order to avoid being crushed.

“Dividing us up isn’t going to work anymore,” Eri states bluntly. “Staying away from the kids when you’re vulnerable isn’t going to solve anything. Satomi almost called it over this one. It’s time, Keiko.”

Keiko tightens her arms around the shoulders of the two kids who have tucked themselves against her, and there’s a flat and unhappy line to her lips. But she says, “Fine,” and even Reborn lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when she does so.

**(- - -)**

He scans the sitting room of the Yamamoto household, picking out people and matching their faces to names. There’s Sawada Tsunayoshi, Yamamoto Takeshi, Gokudera Hayato, Sasagawa Ryohei, Sasgawa Kyoko, and Kurokawa Hana: Sky, Rain, Storm, Sun, Lightning, and Cloud. They’re all middle school students but they have all sparked the Dying Will, and he can see it in their eyes, in the line of their shoulders. 

In contrast, on the other side of the conference table and to his immediate left there’s Yamamoto Keiko, Takei Eri, Matsuoka Satomi, Bianchi di Scorpio, Dokuro Chrome, Fuuta de la Stella, and Kusakabe Tetsuya representing Hibari Kyouya. Out of that group only four people have active Flames, and Reborn finds himself running through who is likely to be what Primary before he snaps himself out of it.

“We are gathered here today,” Satomi says very solemnly and with a grave face that would be concerning if there wasn’t the glimmer of glee in her eye, “to celebrate the death of one Sawada Iemitsu.”

Tsuna startles. Keiko sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. “For the last time, Satomi-”

“I know, I know,” Satomi snickers, waving her hand, “but I had to say it.”

It’s Eri that raises the disapproving eyebrow. She doesn’t say anything else, but Tsuna, Takeshi, Kyoko, Chrome, and interestingly Kusakabe all lean back from it, as if they are suddenly in the room with a predator that’s only lounging because its appetite has been satiated.

“Eri-”

“Satomi,” she sighs, “a little more seriousness, please.”

In his experience with her Satomi doesn’t tend to whine, but her “Fiiine” certainly sounds like she is.

Immature teenagers, Reborn thinks fondly - _merde_ when had _that_ happened? - before he flicks up the brim of his hat. It brings the attention back to him in time for him to say, “I’ve ensured that Sawada Iemitsu will leave Namimori within the next three days. We have until then. What’s the plan, Keiko?”

Tsuna looks resigned and weary and understanding at the mention of Rokudo, an edge of orange to his eyes that Reborn thinks he doesn’t realize he’s using. Keiko glances at that, at the gathered table and at Reborn directly, before she nods. “Satomi, we’re going with decapitation.”

“ _Yes!_ ” the girl crows, grinning like the cat that got the cream and canary and pinned it all on the dog. Chrome laughs under her hand; Kusakabe closes his eyes, expression pained.

Keiko smiles apologetically at a resigned Eri. “I’m-”

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” Eri snaps out. “The bastard deserves it. I’ll get on the data wipe on my side, and I’ll have my contacts start harassing them where they can. What else?”

“That depends on what Kyouya wants.” The room turns to Kusakabe Tetsuya, tucked in-between Chrome and Fuuta, and he blanches but rallies admirably. Keiko tilts her head to him. “Has he decided?”

“Not yet, Keiko-san,” Kusakabe offers. “But he did return, and I think wanted another pot of tea with you before you went. He’s waiting for you in your room.”

“I can do that, though if we’re all staying here for the foreseeable future, we’ll probably need to use Sakoku sooner rather than later.” Keiko looks thoughtful, and taps at the table with a finger; then she glances back at Eri again, chagrined. “I’m-”

Eri throws up her hands. “How many times do I need to say it?” she exclaims. “I don’t mind us moving, Fuuta is already set up in your room, your dad is vocally in support of it, and the only person who’d have a problem setting up semi-permanently in your house instead of mine like we’d originally planned is Chrome-chan, since she’s living with me.”

She turns to Chrome, then, who startles a little; but the girl regains her feet beneath her admirably quickly. “I don’t mind,” she says, and her voice might be quiet but it’s not hesitant. Then she smiles, and it’s small and sweet and nothing like the hard desperation that Reborn had seen in her last, when she’d cast the entirety of Eri’s house into Mist. “I like Hibari-san’s company.”

Keiko blinks at that, and smiles back. “I’m glad.”

There are undercurrents to that, of relief and something harder-edged, that Reborn resolves to identify later. For now, he tucks away the thought as Tsuna draws himself up. “Senpai,” he starts.

“Please don’t antagonize him directly,” Keiko immediately replies, and frowns when Tsuna opens his mouth again. “I mean it.”

“He tried to _assassinate you_ ,” Takeshi fumes. His eyes are hard, and Reborn can see it now, the clearest it has ever been: the natural hitman. “Nee-chan, you can’t ask us to let that go.”

“I’m not.” Takeshi blinks. Tsuna leans back, a little, and that orange edge brightens. Hayato hasn’t stopped staring at Keiko, and neither has Satomi, her face blank. “All I’m asking is that you don’t antagonize him _directly_ , because men like him, _fathers_ like him, are entirely unwilling to see that they have faults.”

Reborn sees movement out of the corner of his eye - it’s Hana, nodding slightly, with Kyoko’s arm looped through her friend’s and keeping her close. Keiko sees that, too, but there’s only the slightest indication of an acknowledging nod before she continues. “It’s better to attack them indirectly; so let Sawada Iemitsu think that Namimori is full of bad luck for him. Let him think that whatever he tries here is doomed to end in failure. And if you want to let him know that he isn’t appreciated or wanted here - well.”

Keiko smiles again, but this one is much more predatory, and it makes Reborn want to lean in. “I’m not stopping you.”

What she’d said months ago now rings in his ears: _Sawada Iemitsu has a lot to answer for_.

She might not be willing to move on her own behalf, Reborn thinks, but she is entirely willing to move on the behalf of others; and whether or not that’s a good thing, he’s not sure as of yet.

“A second Scorched Earth,” Satomi says, and it sounds like a battlecry. She has a matching grin, one that slowly dawns across Eri’s, as unwilling as the girl might initially seem; and it’s infectious, as Kyoko beams and Chrome tilts up the corners of her mouth and even a reluctant Hana straightens her lips from her perpetual frown. Tsuna looks thoughtful, most likely at what Keiko had said, and has the face that means that he’s about to do something incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.

Reborn tucks Leon away onto the brim of his hat, glancing around at the room, and muses about acquiring popcorn.

**(- - -)**

“What exactly is involved?”

Keiko considers him, for a moment, and leans back. It’s just her, Reborn, Eri, and Hibari Kyouya in her room, while Kusakabe Tetsuya is off fetching a second pot of tea and Tsuna and his Guardians has scooted off to Takeshi’s room to discuss something privately. She glances at Eri, then Hibari, who shrugs and returns to sipping at his cup. “Eri? Do you want to explain this?”

Eri doesn’t look away from her laptop, her fingers flying across the keys at breakneck speed. “The last time Satomi ran a campaign like this, we ousted the Momokyokai yakuza from Namimori and ensured that none of Hibari-chan’s so-called _family_ would bother him again.”

Hibari seems resigned to the suffix, only grunting at that once before he closes his eyes and takes another sip of tea. Reborn blinks at that, before he shelves the _What the hell?_ thought.

“That’s not exactly an answer, Eri.”

“Kinda busy right now, Keiko.”

“...okay, that’s fair.” Keiko runs a hand through her hair and looks back to Reborn. “The full details still aren’t my place to tell you,” she says, and he can guess whose it would be but refrains from looking over in Hibari’s direction. “But I can tell you that it involved people whose family were involved in the yakuza thinking that they could hurt us by hurting our friends and who treated people like things. Well, there were also twenty seven people with broken bones, two dozen people in the Intensive Care Unit, and a ruined building, but that’s less relevant.”

Reborn doesn’t blink but he does take a moment to absorb that, first of all because that’s an eclectic list of things in and of itself, and second because if he’s reading correctly between the lines then the ‘friend’ that Keiko is mentioning is Hibari Kyouya.

But he has seen the boy in combat, both in footage and in person, and Hibari has the purest and strongest Cloud Flames that he has ever seen, if he discounts the Cloud Arcobaleno. To feel Dying Will that strong, and to have felt that when Sawada Iemitsu had lingered around his home-

Reborn pulls down the brim of his hat to shade his eyes, but he can feel Keiko’s sharp look anyway. Protective, wary, and weary, it’s a Sky that sings now in defense of its people, and the passive Harmony is extremely tempting to brush back up against even if it’s mostly directed towards Hibari at the moment in an effort to ground the boy. Judging from Hibari’s calmness and stillness to his Flames, it’s working. “And Satomi is aiming for something similar?”

“Oh, no,” Keiko says. Something loosens in the line of her shoulders, and she reaches across the table to put her hand next to Hibari’s - not touching it, only close enough that surely Hibari must feel the warmth of her hand, and yet he doesn’t move his away. “She’s aiming for something worse. She aimed for incapacitation, two years ago, and she did it with just Kyouya. Now she’s going for a beheading of all CEDEF operations in Namimori with Eri.”

Reborn considers that. Judging by the clacking of Eri’s fingers on her keyboard, she is slowly but steadily destroying everything electronic that the Namimori branch of the Vongola Construction Company needs to survive. Not to mention that according to her muttering, she’s bringing files to the attention of the Japanese and Italian governments - files that would make CEDEF’s lives extremely difficult.

And that’s not even counting whatever her own contacts are up to in the meantime. “And if they were going for obliteration?”

Keiko doesn’t smile, but it’s in the glint in her eye and the tilt of her lips. “Then I’d be doing it with them.”

**(- - -)**

He leaves Keiko’s room in time to jump on Tsuna’s shoulder as the boy marches down the street and into his mother’s house to step up to his father, Takeshi and Hayato directly at his back as Kyoko, Hana, and Ryohei spread out around them. 

Sawada Iemitsu’s face is blank and difficult to read, the corners of his eyes speaking to stress and testament to whatever nightmares Rokudo must be giving him, but makes a visible effort to seem far more friendly and chipper when he sees Tsuna. “Have you come around to my way of thinking yet, Tuna-fish?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Reborn can see Tsuna blink rapidly. “...what?”

Sawada’s eyes flick from Tsuna to behind him, to Hana, and back again, slyly deliberate. “Hibari Kyouya is a strong Cloud, Tsuna. He’ll be a stronger Cloud Guardian than your current one - no offense,” he adds as he turns to Hana, but there’s oil in his voice and his smile is just a little too sharp. “But you’re going to need him and his strength, in order to succeed as Decimo. And like I told you: if you ask, I’ve ensured his answer will be positive.”

“A ‘stronger Cloud Guardian’?” Tsuna asks after a pause. He’s not yelling but there’s still anger in his tone, and Reborn is proud of him: of his student who burns slow and terrible in his anger, instead of fast and immediate. Sawada blinks slowly, presumably at the practically manifested Dying Will that Tsuna’s narrowing down to a scalpel. “That’s not only an insult to my Cloud, Kurokawa Hana-san, but that’s an insult to Hibari Kyouya-san.”

“Everything I’m doing, I’m doing for you and your kaa-san, Tsuna.” Sawada’s expression has grown stormy, and dark; Reborn shifts the barest amount of his weight on Tsuna’s shoulder, aware of Leon recording and transmitting, and of the holster of his spare pistol. “You’re just a kid. Listen to your Papa, okay? I know best-”

“You’re not my ‘Papa,’” Tsuna interrupts, voice gone deadly quiet. Sawada blinks, and he looks angry, and Reborn tucks his hands into his pockets but his student still continues: “And you’re not my ‘tou-san.’ You’re Sawada Iemitsu, the man who left his family for the sake of Famiglia and never came back, and who’s acting without a full understanding of the situation. You don’t get to decide that you have a say in my life after that. I’ve chosen my family. It’s not up for discussion.”

Tsuna turns on his heel, and his Guardians part so that he can walk between them unimpeded; but he pauses on the threshold of the room and turns around. Reborn looks past the five Guardians to Sawada Iemitsu, who has turned red in anger. “For some reason kaa-san loves you anyway,” Tsuna adds, and he is audibly pained at that. “So I hope you appreciate it.”

Then he walks out of the room and out of the house, and Reborn squeezes his student’s shoulder as they leave.

**(- - -)**

Sawada Iemitsu is neck-deep into sorting out the mess that is pulling twenty-four mafiosi out of a sudden arrest currently being backed and investigated by Interpol, and it’s in the middle of hour four that Reborn gets a call from Leon in phone-form.

He takes one look at the Caller ID and steps into the hallway, leaving behind a room full of Sky and Guardians debating how else to thoroughly ruin Sawada’s day. “Ciaossu.”

“What the hell is going on over there, Reborn?” Lal’s voice might be steely and demanding on the surface, but he’s worked with her plenty of times over the course of the Arcobaleno formation and before that Fated Day - he can hear the strain and stress curling at the edges.

“Are you sure you’re not the next Head of CEDEF, Lal?”

“...what the hell did _Sawada_ do?” she asks instead. Suddenly she’s weary, and Reborn can imagine her running her hand over her face in a rare show of emotion.

The hallway is empty, but Reborn still sweeps it with his eyes and Flames to ensure that no one from CEDEF is listening in before he says, “He tried to assassinate Yamamoto Keiko.”

“... _Reborn_.”

Best espionage specialist and spy in the world, he remembers. “I know I asked you to have Sawada called back to Sicily in three days, but you might want to resign before he does; he’s going to have a string of _catastrophically_ ill luck as soon as he’s on Italian soil.”

Warning delivered, Reborn hangs up to Lal’s cursing in three different languages, and watches with a slight frown as Leon shifts back into his natural skin and crawls his way back up to his hat. 

**(- - -)**

All in all, Sawada has to spend thirty-two hours removing his mafiosi from the clutches of the authorities and erasing their tracks, Japanese or otherwise. The last few hours of that he’s been trying to operate out of Namimori’s CEDEF building, and failing. After hours of watching on the surveillance, it’s clear to Reborn that when Satomi had said ‘decapitation’ she’d really meant ‘ruin them thoroughly and just shy of actual death.’ It doesn’t help that Hibari Kyouya is ambushing each and every CEDEF lackey that has the misfortune to run across him.

It makes Reborn wonder what ‘obliteration’ would have been, even as he watches Tsuna and the kids head out into town to enact their own vengeance. Then he glances over to Eri, who leans back and gives a slow and satisfied smile. Next to her, Keiko looks worried. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure we won’t need it,” Eri says, and her smile widens just a little, her glasses glinting. She’s normally not an expressive person - in a different way from Keiko, just a little stiff and formal compared to Keiko’s stillness - but now, the hair rises on the back of Reborn’s neck. “Tsunayoshi and Takeshi and the rest of the kids wouldn’t have accepted Sakoku, anyway, and neither would have your tou-san. None of them are the type to wait for the storm to pass.”

Keiko thinks about that for a moment, before she sighs and moves to massage the bridge of her nose. “You’re right,” she sighs. “Unfortunately.”

“You can’t keep them safe forever, Keiko.”

Judging by the thin line of her lips, Keiko is all too aware of that.

Honestly, _these kids_ , and these _girls_ in particular: barely at the age of maturity in the West, and yet they are tackling issues in such a mature manner that Reborn has to wonder just what it was that made them grow up so fast. They might be teenagers with all of the humor - immature or not - that inevitably follows, but to be this accomplished?

Then again, there is no way in hell that he would have remained so interested in them if they hadn’t been, which causes something beneath his ribs to clench. Would he have paid attention to Yamamoto Keiko if she hadn’t been such a mystery, or so frustrating? 

Leon licks the inside of his ear, and Reborn bites down on a string of curses as he snatches his partner from his shoulder to glare at him. The chameleon looks extremely pleased himself, the _brat_ , but his eyes unmistakably blink. He’s staring at Keiko’s ear cuff, still there, still in that bright Sun-yellow.

...honestly, probably not; he is prideful and vain and has enough self-awareness to at least admit it, unlike _some_ people.

He turns his attention back to Keiko in time to watch her face as she says, “But if I could, I would.” It’s quiet, and solid, and steady, and her Flame curls out and the Dying Will in Eri responds in the unmistakable dance of someone about to spark it.

There’s a tightening of somewhere or something in the vicinity of his lungs; Reborn ignores it, instead making plans to help Satomi and Eri achieve Dying Will. They’re both highly accomplished people, but they are declaring their guerilla war on CEDEF, and only the lucky or the skilled survive that.

(The list of what Matsuoka Satomi and Takei Eri will accomplish in the name of their ‘second Scorched Earth’ is long and impressive: incendiaries in CEDEF’s offices, a termite and cockroach infestation in their walls, water damage, stolen data, incriminating evidence in the Namimori Police’s and Interpol’s servers, glitter bombs sent to CEDEF’s Italian office, and signing up Sawada Iemitsu for the most obnoxious and ridiculous subscriptions that they could find.

It would be alarming, if he hadn’t spent the last nine months fighting his way into the heart of Namimori.)

And Reborn will be damned if he lets any associate of his die due to such an inane reason as a lack of Flames.

**(- - -)**

If Takeshi is being honest, this has been a long time in coming.

It’s no secret that he loathes Sawada Iemitsu with the fire of a thousand suns. He’s been at Tsuna’s side for years; he knows how much it’s strained his best friend, how much it’s strained his best friend’s _mother_ , and how much of that has been what his nee-chan would call a negative feedback loop: two people stuck in the same place and getting worse when their hurts reflect back on one another.

That’s not to say that Takeshi forgives Sawada Nana, either. A harsh reality is no reason to treat your child the way that Nana-san has been treating Tsuna, and it’s why he’s been trying to keep his best friend away from that sort of environment as much as he could.

Not that that’s strictly needed, nowadays. At first he’d thought the kid telling them that Tsuna is the heir to a criminal organization to be a lie; Tsuna is the most morally and ethically straight person he’s known. His best friend has never struggled to not kill someone, and throughout the years he’s been kind, and compassionate, and, and-

And then things had started happening, one after another. People in suits who made his hand itch for his practice sword had started visiting Namimori, and then Tsuna had been hospitalized, and the kid had introduced something he called Flames.

(Nee-chan had been the one to light up her hands with Tsuna, in that hospital room with the too-sharp scent of antiseptic and with Chrome-chan’s life uncertain, and Takeshi wonders just when she’d felt what the kid calls Dying Will.

He’d asked his father, and he’s not yet received any answers; but Takeshi isn’t stupid. The memories from years before are hazy but he does have them, of men in suits slumped on the restaurant floor and dark blood stains drying into the grooves, of his sister and her strained smile.)

At least he has them, too, Takeshi thinks, and tries again to push that feeling into the palm of his hand. It’s hard, and it’s shaky, but he manages it: blue Flames. Rain, the kid had called them.

But honestly, with Sawada Iemitsu in town and the urge to do something painful to the man singing beneath his skin, he doesn’t get why he’s the Tranquil one. If anything it feels like it should be Tsuna, with his hard eyes and his still hands, but there’s the orange edge to his eyes, again, and the hair rises on the back of Takeshi’s neck.

It’s still disconcerting, but it settles over Tsuna’s shoulders well: that look of certainty, of self-assurance. His best friend can be unsure of himself at times, especially if it concerns his own safety or happiness, even if he’s adamant about his friends’ and it makes Takeshi’s heart hurt even as it makes him more sure of what they’re about to do.

“We can do so much more than this, Juudaime,” Gokudera is saying, a downwards turn to the end of his lips. He’s not smoking - good; even if they’re necessary for his weapons nee-chan would disapprove of that, and honestly Takeshi would use that as an excuse to hit something, _anything_ right now - but he’s clutching his dynamite.

There’s a _tsk_ next to him, as Hana-san twirls her collapsed bo staff in her hand. “Sawada,” she says, voice carefully flat but with that wealth of emotion beneath it. Beside her, Kyoko-chan tightens the last of the wraps on her hands and exchanges a fist-bump with her brother, and the Sasagawa siblings’ faces are equally as grim and certain when they turn to face the group.

Tsuna looks resigned and hurting and tired, and Takeshi would like nothing else than to wipe that look off his face, to take them back to easier times when it was just them and nee-chan and home and baseball. But his best friend is saying, “I’m sure. Even this will make it hurt,” and-

His nee-chan has a saying. _When people say no, they mean no_. 

Takeshi breathes in, slowly, carefully, and swings his sword up to his shoulder. It’s wooden, and it’s different from a baseball bat, but that’s all irrelevant: he still knows how to make it hurt. “If Tsuna says that he’s okay with just this,” he tells the rest of their friends, “then we’re going to respect that.”

Kyoko-chan is the first to accept that, and the rest of them all grumble but settle willingly, and Takeshi breathes out. Taps his sword against his shoulder once, twice. When he looks back, Tsuna is glancing at him with gratefulness.

Takeshi holds the warm feeling in his chest close to his heart and smiles back.

**(- - -)**

Satomi-san had engaged the gossip mill of Namimori, ensuring that Sawada Iemitsu’s men have an extremely difficult time even walking in their streets without being glared at or threatened. But she’d had left portions of the work for them, after long negotiation, and it’s in the middle of the night that they’re settling into the parking lot with CEDEF’s vehicles.

It starts out alright. They slash the tires, silence the alarms, shatter the windows, rip out the fuel lines. Tsuna stands next to Gokudera as Takeshi and Ryohei-senpai walk the leaking fuel from one car to a safe distance away, Kyoko-chan and Hana-san doing the same with the other car.

It’s only when they’re all back together, shoulder-to-shoulder and watching the massacred cars ready for sacrifice that Tsuna lets out a sigh and nods. Gokudera steps forward and lets his ignited lighter touch the fuel-trail.

He’s watched a lot of fireworks in his lifetime, accompanying his father and sister and best friend and some of their other classmates to festivals; but Takeshi has to admit the burning cars have their own appeal to them, as if they're festival bonfires instead of simple fireworks.

They retreat right afterwards, of course - if Takeshi’s not stupid then neither are these people that he and Tsuna have surrounded themselves with, and they know better than to be at the scene of such an obvious case of property destruction. They move to a playground near their own neighborhoods, abandoned in the light of the moon but close enough that they can see the haze of the fire over the trees.

Takeshi throws an arm around Tsuna’s shoulder when they’re there, even as Kyoko presses hers to his. Hana-san is warm at their backs, and Ryohei-senpai is pacing off his energy as he shouts in a far quieter volume than most would think him capable of, and Gokudera is staring into the darkness, lighter clenched in his hands. For long minutes, it’s just them, watching the smoke rise into the sky. 

But of course their post-mission high is ruined when CEDEF swoops in, bleeding and bruised but still dressed in those suits and all intent on them. They fight to the backdrop of the playground, and at first Takeshi thinks it’s because CEDEF is angry their cars were destroyed; but then they try to separate him from Tsuna’s side, and only use minimal manpower against Kyoko-chan’s crackling hands and Hana-san’s staff edged in purple fire and Ryohei-senpai’s nigh-blinding brightness.

They can’t scatter; that’ll give the enemy what they want. Takeshi shares a look with Tsuna, and it’s like the world slows down just a little, and it’s the years of experience with each other compiled in that one look that lets him know what his best friend is thinking. 

He lets Tsuna take point to the background noise of Gokudera’s cursing and shouting and searches his pockets for his phone. Tsuna fights with both hands, and so does pretty much everyone else, and Takeshi’s the only one right now who can hold a weapon in one hand and at least sort of defend himself while he hits speed dial with his other hand.

And Takeshi is a good, self-aware otouto, and he does what any good, self-aware otouto in his position - outmanned and tired and on the defensive from an attempted kidnapping - would do:

He calls his nee-chan. 

**(- - -)**

It is simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying at once when Keiko-senpai appears from the night, hair pulled up into the high tail that’s a sign that she means business and with her steel blade in her hand. Just looking at her, Tsuna can’t see any signs that she’d been incapacitated, by something within or without.

Ryohei-senpai is bouncing on his feet, though, cheering, and people might give them looks for that but Tsuna remembers the first time Keiko-senpai was followed home by a boy just a year older than him or Takeshi, who was loud to her quiet and boxing to her swordsmanship but was eager to have her as a friend anyway - and, Intuition now tells him, glad beneath all of that sunny attitude. 

“I’m serious,” she’s saying on the phone, and Tsuna can just make out the earbud in the waning moonlight. “He’s not worth your time. You can ask Satomi, if you want, and she’d tell you the same.”

Two people get their noses broken as Senpai slams the hilt of her sword into their face, and then whacks one over the head with the dull side of the blade. She’s not paying attention to them, though, still on the phone and making an obvious target of herself as Tsuna wipes the blood from his mouth.

Takeshi mutters, “She was the target of an assassination attempt two days ago; I didn’t mean for _her_ to come out here,” but even he has the satisfied twist to his lips as he holds his sword in a ready stance.

Tsuna leans against his best friend. “If Senpai gets in trouble, this time, we’re here.”

“She extremely won’t need it!” Ryohei-senpai cheers, even as he bounces back into a ready-stance. Beside him, Hana-san wraps the last of her bandages in place and swings her bo staff with her injured arm, testing it, as Kyoko-chan helps Hayato back up. 

Keiko-senpai is still talking on the phone. “Bianchi,” she says again finally, “I know. I understand. But we’ve known Maeda for years, okay? You’re better off asking one of Kyouya’s Disciplinary Committee kids for a spar. I can arrange that for you if you’d like.”

Tsuna’s Intuition tingles, enough of a warning that he’s able to turn in the direction in time to hear, “Sloppy, Tsuna,” drifting out from the dark. Reborn jumps onto the offered shoulder from pretty much nowhere, but his friends are too busy watching the CEDEF men and keeping them corralled enough that they have to face Keiko-senpai at one point or else to notice.

Except for Takeshi, who chooses to relax his ready stance at the presence of someone who is, Tsuna’s Intuition tells him, definitely going to interfere before anyone can even get close enough to successfully harm his sister.

“Maybe,” Tsuna admits, but tilts his head to the fight that’s now winding down. “We accomplished our original objective, though.”

Takeshi sheathes his practice sword as Keiko-senpai leaves the last suited man groaning on the ground. “They came after us,” he says with a frown. Beside and behind him, the rest of their friends - Kyoko-chan, Hana-san, Ryohei-senpai - close ranks, still high on that adrenaline rush but grim in the face of Takeshi’s stark words. “They tried to take Tsuna.”

Tsuna can see in his peripheral vision that Reborn’s flicking up his hat, his face difficult to read. “By tomorrow, they won’t be a problem.”

“Reborn-san, you said there was someone would take care of that?” Kyoko-chan taps a finger to her lips, obviously remembering. “Matsui Lal?”

“Mirch Lal,” Reborn corrects her transliteration of Italian into Japanese, “or in her home language, Lal Mirch.”

“Right, her.” Kyoko-chan nods and loops an arm through Hana-san’s, and beams to the backdrop of men groaning on the ground. Tsuna doesn’t know if he should be concerned about that or not. “But before that, there’s one last thing we need to do.”

Reborn looks over to him, curious, and Tsuna grimaces. Takeshi laughs, finally, his own tension easing out as Keiko-senpai hangs up with a quick, “Alright, let me know when’s a good time,” flicking the blood off of her sword with a casual wrist movement. 

Hayato doesn’t look excited about this one, but there’s the stillness to him that means he’s ready for it. “Satomi-san ruined their physical location and base,” he says, counting off on his fingers, “and Eri-san ruined their electronic files. Hibari-san’s getting whatever they didn’t touch. We took out their cars so they’ll have a bitch of a time getting to the airport tomorrow, and ruined an attempt to kidnap Juudaime. Normally that’d be enough of a message in and of itself.”

Ryohei-senpai interrupts, excited and fistpumping. “We determined that we will pull one last extreme prank on Sawada Iemitsu! A man is not a man unless he can run through the town in only his underwear!!”

Keiko-senpai arrives in time to hear the last of that semi-shouted sentence, and raises both of her eyebrows. Tsuna recognizes that unimpressed look, the one that says _What the hell are you doing_ , and hurries to add, “What Ryohei-senpai is trying to say is that we’re planning to end this without spilling blood.”

She turns to Reborn, still on his shoulder, and the two of them look so alike in their resignation that Kyoko-chan starts giggling and Takeshi starts rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re not returning back to that house yourself just to steal all of that man’s clothing, Tsuna,” Keiko-senpai says slowly, and she’s moving to pinch the bridge of her nose as if this is just another one of his and Takeshi’s ideas that she thoroughly disapproves of, but there’s legitimate steel in her voice.

“Of course not,” Hayato says, at the same time that Hana-san huffs out, “Absolutely not,” and the two don’t seem to notice the way they’re on the same wavelength; but Tsuna doesn’t need any fancy Intuition to know why that might be. 

Instead he offers, “Takeshi and Kyoko-chan volunteered. They wouldn’t let me either, senpai.”

“For good reason,” Keiko-senpai mutters darkly, but straightens all the same. Reborn jumps to her shoulder in one graceful movement that Tsuna eyes in envy before he’s struck by the image the two of them make: both of his tutors presenting one united front, and both extremely unimpressed with him. “In any case, you still needed me to bail you out.”

Reborn picks up the thought from there: “You all still need training. Prepare yourselves.”

Ryohei-senpai cheers, even as Hana-san groans and Hayato pales, but Tsuna feels it the almost supernatural warmth in his chest all the same, and he smiles.

**(- - -)**

Sawada Iemitsu leaves Namimori with borrowed vehicles and just the clothes on his back, and behind him is a ruined building which will, Eri tells Reborn, be treated as ‘cursed grounds.’ The kids cheer when they hear that, and Tsuna starts making plans for Kyoko’s birthday while the girl plots with the rest of the Guardians to subvert it into a party for _Tsuna_.

Leon obligingly turns into a hammer for him, and Reborn later pretends not to notice Satomi’s giggles or Keiko’s slight smile as the kids all collapse in a single pile in the Yamamotos’ sitting room after the day’s worth of training. _Seriously_ ; let the kids off the leash for just a few hours so they can commit massive property damage and they think it’s alright to let the training slip. 

The World’s Greatest Hitman doesn’t grumble, but he does say as much to Keiko, whose smile widens just a little bit. It’s a small change, probably something that the girl herself doesn’t notice, but Satomi’s smirking when she catches his eye.

Reborn ignores her to concentrate on the warm feeling in his chest that's been left behind. “What will you do with the rest of CEDEF?”

Keiko leans forward, and her voice is quiet amidst the kids’ groaning and mild complaining of sore muscles and tired limbs. “If they’re here under orders,” she says, “then they’ll get a limited pass. If they can be reasoned with, Eri’s always looking for people to turn into contacts. If they can’t be, then Kyouya gets first strike to drive them out of town.”

That’s the best he’s going to get, he supposes. And if Sawada Iemitsu dares show his face in Namimori again - unlikely, given the amount of hell that Rokudo has promised to put him through - then the gleam in Keiko’s eye reveals just what part she has in this.

“I’ll keep tabs on Vongola and CEDEF,” Reborn says, and breathes in to the surge of Sky.

**(- - -)**

He’s in the middle of making more training plans in Takeshi’s room - the kids had taken well to Colonello, and with Sawada gone the rest of the kids’ summer can be sent on working with Dying Will, whether it’s practicing the use of it or sparking it in the first place - when there’s knocking at the window. When he looks over, it’s to see a blue-haired Arcobaleno hanging from the windowsill by one hand and looking supremely unimpressed beneath her visor.

He blinks, because if he’s being honest with himself he did not expect her this fast. He opens the window, though, because he has seen Lal with that expression once before and it did not end well for Colonello.

“What the fuck, Reborn?” Lal points an accusing finger at him as soon as she’s inside, face set in a scowl that honestly wants to make him either pull out his pistol for a spar or back away. “Just what in hell happened with Sawada Iemitsu that the Vongola aren’t responding at all, no matter that the Varia are up to who-knows-what now-”

And then three things happen at once: Keiko pops her head into the room, Lal’s breath stills, and Reborn pulls down the brim of his fedora and keeps himself still in the face of the passive Harmony that’s curling into the room and asking without words if there’s anything he or Lal personally need.

Skies are either driven by ideals or by people, Reborn remembers, and swallows down the urge to move. “What is it, Keiko?”

Keiko doesn’t startle at the appearance of a stranger in the form of Lal Mirch in her house, though her shoulders are slightly tense and her smile is the same polite one she’d had for Reborn in the beginning. The sight of it now, when he knows how she looks when she’s tired or when she’s quietly happy or when she’s alone with her inner circle, makes him want to shoot something. “The kids are going out to dinner, as soon as they can move, and I was wondering if you or your friend were interested in coming along.”

Could she have sensed them from downstairs? Reborn puts a pin in the thought long enough to turn to Lal, who has flicked her visor up and put on a carefully friendly face. “I’m assuming you’re Yamamoto Keiko? I’m Lal Mirch. Or Mirch Lal, as you would say it using Japanese convention. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Me as well, Mirch-san,” Keiko returns evenly. “So? Dinner?”

“Give us half an hour and we’ll join you,” Reborn interrupts. He can feel Lal staring into the side of his head but ignores it, at least until Keiko raises both eyebrows at him. “Lal just arrived, so I’m briefing her on the situation. We’ll be done soon.”

“Satomi will hold you to that,” she warns him, before she disappears. Reborn counts one moment, then two.

“Her? Really?” When he looks over, Lal looks thoughtful. Of course she would have looked up Yamamoto Keiko before she’d even stepped onto the plane.

If this was Skull, or even Colonello, Reborn would draw his gun and load it in an unspoken warning. This is Lal, though, and such tactics wouldn’t work on her, so he merely flicks up his hat to better look her in the eye. “Is there a problem?”

“Not at all.” Lal crosses her arms instead, visibly shelving the conversation for later, and falls into the professionalism that had made her tolerable when they’d been strangers gathered for the _I Prescelti Sette_. “Why did you say that Sawada Iemitsu would have ‘catastrophically ill luck’?”

He’s fairly confident, with the way that Lal has been acting since she’d arrived and his own familiarity with her and her mannerisms, but he still needs to ask. “Do you still work for Sawada Iemitsu?”

This time Lal’s smile is a mix of grim and satisfied. “I filed my resignation letter four hours ago. Sawada can have the joy of cleaning up his own messes by himself. And before you ask, I pulled the people that couldn’t survive under his heavy-handed Sky purist philosophy and sent them elsewhere before I left. Now _spill_.”

Reborn doesn’t press his lips together but he still pauses to consider. “Mammon hasn’t been responding at all recently either, even to information contract propositions,” he says finally. “Xanxus de-icing wouldn’t do that, and the Vongola haven’t been responding to me, even in my position as tutor for their heir.”

“Which means that whatever’s up with the Vongola is probably serious,” Lal mutters, and mutters also a few choice Italian curses under her breath. “They’ve been in status lockdown for the last week, no matter what CEDEF sends them. Nothing going in, nothing going out. The rest of it is business as usual, though, which is keeping the rest of the underworld quiet for now.”

“If they’re not responding to CEDEF,” Reborn muses, “then it’s probably being handled by the Ninth’s Guardians. There’s nothing we can do from here.”

“ _Merde_.” Lal is not a woman who has visible stress tics, but here in this house where they are in a relatively private setting she looks as if she’s considering it. Idly Reborn wonders if the ebb and flow of Sky Flames from two different people has anything to do with that. Then she pins him with a sharp look, and this time he’s the one who’s shelving thoughts. “Sawada Iemitsu is a terrible boss and a shitty father, but we’ve known that for years now. What changed?”

Reborn thinks of and discards multitudes of answers in that split second. There are things that he can tell her and things that he cannot and things that he _will_ _not_ , but each and every one will tell Lal something. The sole downside to calling an espionage specialist and master observer a colleague, he supposes. “Like I said, he tried to assassinate Yamamoto Keiko. You’ve seen her. You’ve read her file.”

“Normal school girl,” Lal rattles off, as if she has it memorized. Reborn wouldn’t be surprised if she had; in fact, he expects it. “Attends Midori Secondary. Recently turned eighteen years old. Will be applying to university soon. Civilian. And if that’d been her, sticking her head in, and asking-”

“It was.”

“ _Caro Signore_.” Lal’s face shuts down in the way it tends to do when she’s surprised by something. “Is she the real deal?”

Reborn thinks of omamori, of hard eyes and silences easily given, of tea with someone the world would call a violent delinquent and who she would call by first name in a society as traditionally formal as Japan’s. “She is.”

It’s an unspoken silent fact amongst the Arcobaleno, that the one who should have been a grounding pillar had shut herself off as if they’d been strangers, regardless of what they’d gone through before the Fated Day. It’s ludicrous to think that an eighteen year old would be a better Sky than a woman who has lived her life knowing she will be the Donna of an influential Famiglia such as the Giglio Nero, but there it is.

Lal blinks, finally, before she tips down her visor to conceal her eyes. “I’m surprised you’re not beating me off with a stick.”

 _Oh_ , Reborn wants to, but Lal would give him a fair run for his money if he tried; regardless of the trauma, she’s honed her odd mix of Flames into something deadly and the combination is something he’d only want to face in a spar instead of a real fight. “I wouldn’t want to deprive you of a prime experience,” he says instead. “You’ve yet to meet Matsuoka Satomi or Takei Eri.”

“Yamamoto mentioned her earlier,” Lal recalls. “Something about the Satomi girl holding you to your word?”

He feels the latent Dying Will before he hears the quiet footsteps up the stairs, and smirks in time for Satomi to barge in with her usual bluster. “I’m hungry, Eri’s hungry, Fuuta-kun and Chrome-chan are but don’t want to admit it, and Keiko’s finally prodded the kids into being somewhat human-like,” she states bluntly, “so if you’re going with us then now’s the time to do it. Hello to you,” she adds, “Matsuoka Satomi, glad to meet you, we’ll talk later. Let’s go already!”

Then she’s gone in a whirlwind of hair and her usual quick stride, leaving behind silence. Lal has her visor down but Reborn’s known her for years now; he smirks even wider when she flicks her eyes over to him. “She likes switchblades,” he offers.

And it’ll be fun to watch, at least, when Satomi puts someone else through her version of the shovel talk. Reborn can at least admit to himself that he’s looking forward to it.

**(- - -)**

“I used to work for your father,” Lal says bluntly in the middle of dinner, when Reborn has wandered away to the other table and it’s just her and the Vongola Decimo and his Guardians. She can see the emotions that flicker across Sawada Tsunayoshi’s face when she does: surprise, wariness, suspicion. “The key words here being _used to_.”

The boy chews around his last mouthful before he swallows - good, at least he has manners. Beside him and around them, the kids - and by all that is holy these are _kids_ , what the hell, Iemitsu? - are apprehensive, watchful.

Reborn and the others are at the other table, but Lal can still feel their attention, can still sense the subtle Harmony between the Sky before her and the Guardians, the passive flames from the other Sky that’s curling around the corners of the room.

Lal breathes in for a count of four, holds it for a count of two, breathes out for a count of five. The Harmony is tempting, but they are still strangers. She is a soldier and a woman of steel and she will not bend on this.

“Why did you quit?” Sawada Tsunayoshi finally asks, and puts down his chopsticks. Something flares in his eyes; Lal refuses to give away her surprise. Vongola Intuition is something she’d known existed, because Iemitsu had sometimes utilized it, but this is different. The orange hue to his normally brown eyes is different.

This is a stranger. This is Sawada Tsunayoshi, of Namimori, and Lal is many things but she is not a liar, and certainly not to herself. Sawada is clearly at the heart of the web of people and connections that make up this town, and the difference between his Sky and his father’s is like night and day.

But Lal is also trained as a spy; the hair rises on the back of her neck and she knows without a doubt that what she says next will affect everything. She mulls over potential answers, thinking about how to phrase it. Eventually she settles on, “Because he has shit morals and is a shit person.”

The kids don’t startle at the cursing but the black-haired one - the Rain, and it’s ludicrous that middle school kids have achieved Dying Will, but since when has the mafia or even the yakuza been kind? - leans back, satisfied, and the grey-haired Sun nods seriously. The Cloud’s eyes are intent, and beside her, the Lightning’s are knowing, even as the Storm stills as he processes this. 

Surrounded and protected and protecting, Sawada Tsunayoshi nods slowly in agreement. “He is.”

**(- - -)**

Lal has led COMSUBIN, years before the word Arcobaleno had ever meant anything to her. It means that she is difficult to rattle and difficult to surprise, and she knows this and has used this to her advantage many times.

Namimori, a portion of her mind thinks, is like looking into an alternate universe. The rest of her mind is preoccupied by the fact that there is a goddamn Sun-yellow chameleon ear cuff on Yamamoto Keiko’s ear, and that Reborn spends an ungodly amount of time on the girl’s shoulder.

Which she understands; getting around as an Arcobaleno is a bitch and a half. But the man could hardly shout it from the rooftops and be more obvious about it, regardless of what he actually does or doesn’t say.

Colonello calls her in a panic when he hears that she’d resigned from CEDEF and then disappeared without a trace, but gripes about it with her when she tells him about Yamamoto Keiko. “She came in and Reborn was fucking _territorial_ , kora,” he tells her; “I mean, yeah, I’d be too - you’ve felt it, right?”

The silent promise of support and conviction and defense, in a different way from Sawada Tsunayoshi’s but tempting all the same. And after years of Sawada Iemitsu’s decidedly more _aggressive_ personality, it’s a relief. “Yeah.”

There’s static on the line, as Colonello sighs. “If Reborn didn’t try and block me every time I tried to ask questions, I’d have probably tried my luck,” he admits. “Because after Luce, kora?”

The name brings up a variety of feelings that Lal breathes steadily through, sorting and tucking them all back into their boxes with the ease of long practice: anger, desperation, hatred, resignation. “I told myself I wouldn’t try again,” she says. She doesn’t whisper, because a soldier is not afraid, but she says it maybe too evenly because Colonello quiets on the other end. “But Reborn offered me a tutoring job, to help whip Sawada Tsunayoshi and his Guardians into shape.”

“What?” Colonello’s confusion is evident on the line and in his voice; the man wears his heart on his sleeve, as he always has. “They were decent for their age and inexperience when they were last here, kora.”

She’s known Colonello for years, and for all of his mistakes, for all of his faults, he’d been trying to help. He’s always been trying to help, and Lal can’t blame him for what happened. Not really. “Xanxus di Vongola was de-iced.”

The news is being kept tightly secret, which is why Lal waits Colonello out as he goes through first Italian curses, then English, then a few rusty ones in Greek. “Do we know when he’s going to move again?” he demands when he’s done.

“We don’t,” she admits, “but I’m working on finding out. Until then, I’ll probably be in Namimori for the foreseeable future.”

“Good luck,” Colonello wishes her, and he sounds sincere about it. “Kick their asses into shape for me, kora!”

“Watch your back,” Lal shoots back, and hits disconnect before he can protest just to keep him on his toes.

**(- - -)**

She’d thought Matsuoka Satomi had been the one to watch out for, because Lal recognizes a fellow espionage specialist when she sees one, and can tell that the girl is a natural. She’d expected that Yamamoto Keiko will work to keep her at a distance until she proves herself, because Lal had read her as a protective Sky that doesn’t trust easily. 

But she hadn’t expected it to be the quiet girl with glasses to be the one to stare her down and say, “Arcobaleno?”

These are civilians from a small town in the middle of _Japan_ , oceans away from Italia. What would they know about Arcobaleno?

“A lot,” Takei says, and Lal blinks behind her visor. “Reborn didn’t tell us much about himself, or about the Arcobaleno, but the rumors aren’t hard to dig up if you know where to look. What do you specialize in?”

“Reconnaissance,” Lal replies automatically, and concentrates on the latent Dying Will she can sense under the girl’s skin. It’s hard to grasp, as if it’s running just a little faster than the rest of the world.

“Try again,” Takei counters. She doesn’t cross her arms but she does lean back, just a little, and the movement is enough to bring attention to the lines of a holster crossing over her hips. In the small of the back, holding a small handgun, most likely illegal; Japan is entirely too conservative for an underage girl to have a legal firearm.

“Undercover work.” Lal doesn’t back down from the stare. This is just a seventeen year old girl. She has faced down worse, in far more hellish conditions, with more to gain or lose than the trust of someone like Takei Eri. “What about you?”

“Whatever Keiko needs me to do,” Takei responds evenly and enigmatically. Lal doesn’t smirk. “She’s the one that gets herself into and pulls herself out of the most trouble. Who holds your loyalty?”

And isn’t that an interesting way of phrasing it? Not _Who are you loyal to_ ; not _Who do you work for_.

Who holds your loyalty?

Reborn had mentioned this girl as well as Matsuoka Satomi as two who are close to igniting the Dying Will, and Lal can see it. They are dangerous, as only girls growing up in hard circumstances can be.

And Takei Eri’s file had gone something like: single child. Home alone. Exemplary student. Has few family, fewer friends. Aspirations of attending a law school overseas.

It says nothing about the hard edge to her eyes, or her quiet competence, or the odd way she phrases things as if she’s thinking in spirals and circles where others would hit walls.

Lal thinks of this, of Matsuoka Satomi’s outward immaturity hiding a sharp mind and how she watches a certain someone’s back when she’s close enough, of Reborn and the way he’s changed over the last nine months, of how Sawada Tsunayoshi had called out his own father on his bullshit and who Sawada Iemitsu blames for such a change.

“Right now? No one,” Lal replies, and tilts her head. “In the future? We’ll see.”

Luce had been a Donna with her own Guardians by the time they’d assembled into the World’s Strongest Seven, and Lal had been wary enough at the time that she’d shied away from any and all attempts of Harmonization that the woman could have pulled on her. But Yamamoto Keiko’s Sky feels nothing like hers; where Luce’s had been driven by duty, the girl’s tastes of something far more personal.

Sawada Iemitsu versus Sawada Tsunayoshi; Luce de Giglio Nero versus Yamamoto Keiko. Lal hadn’t thought she’d live long enough to see four Skies that are such polar opposites, but here she is.

Takei Eri considers her for one last moment before she nods. “Reborn mentioned something about you being able to help me spark Flames.”

Dying Will and perseverance and loyalty. Even a mere seventeen hours out of CEDEF she’s received reports of Sawada Iemitsu’s life turning definitively for the worse, and it doesn’t take much imagination to think of why that might be. It might not be completely the fault of the girl in front of her, but Lal thinks that a good portion of it could probably be laid at her feet.

But all she says is, “I can,” and makes the commitment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [morcai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Morcai/pseuds/Morcai) for reading over this chapter!
> 
> If I haven't responded to your comment I swear I'm not ignoring it; instead, chances are good that I'm either screeching in delight at your comment or flopping about like a landed fish because I can't answer them without revealing spoilers. <333
> 
> Here, have notes for this chapter:
> 
> A drunk tank is the separate jail cell for the intoxicated. The Namimori Police had a field day when they realized there were injured people in their drunk tank, and then when they realized just _who_ was in there bleeding all over their tiles.
> 
> Sakoku is the name of the isolationist policy of Japan’s Tokugawa regime, when relations and trade between Japan and other foreign countries were severely limited.
> 
> Names are Surname-Personal in Japanese convention, while in the rest of the world/the West names are given in the Personal-Surname format. Calling someone by their first name plus a suffix - for example, “Kyoko-chan” - is an indicator of being good friends. However, using just the first name without a suffix is usually done by someone who is older to someone who is younger, or between two people who are extremely close, such as blood relations or spouses. You can read more about that [here](https://japanese.stackexchange.com/questions/5362/address-someone-by-their-first-name-or-their-last-name#5366).
> 
> Comments are my lifeblood and my motivation and I love them all dearly!


End file.
